


How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure

by Wertiyurae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, POV switches galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wertiyurae/pseuds/Wertiyurae
Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AUDave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 125
Kudos: 206





	1. Inciting Incidents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceAdoxography](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceAdoxography/gifts).



> This story is the result of a jam session I did with [aceAdoxography](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceAdoxography) on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday.
> 
> NOTE: I had to delete this story and repost it so it would show up properly. I apologize for any inconvenience this causes, but I figured I should fix this sooner rather than later.

## Day 0: 

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't _keep_ a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't _his_ fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually _was_ his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I _am_ in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Now, try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

* * *

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

> *** Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired?** ** ~~Hot.~~ ~~Attractive~~** **. Moderately attractive.**

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

* * *

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe  
TG: wanted to say hey  
TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE?  
TG: hell yea dog  
TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams  
TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz-  
TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you  


That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this _was_ Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right?  
CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW?  
CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT.  
CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME?  
TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date  


Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit  
TG: but not really  
TG: cause no offense but i just met you  
TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys  
TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true  
TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks  
TG: at least a tongue kiss or something  
TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically  
TG: thats all kinds of gross  
TG: forget i said any of that please  
CG: …  
CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

* * *

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

> *** Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents.** **~~I'm going to be murdered.~~ ~~What the hell am I doing?~~**

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.


	2. Hooked

## Day 1: 

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

* * *

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

* * *

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say _something_. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

* * *

> *** Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. ~~Finds me attractive.~~ Probable brain damage. ~~Funny.~~ ~~Charming.~~ Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.**

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

* * *

##  Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking  
TG: if youre not busy  
TG: we could go to the park this afternoon  
TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed  
TG: or you could come to my place and hang  
TG: is it too soon to do that?  
TG: asking for a friend  
TG: this is dave by the way  
TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to  
TG: not that its any of my business  
TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to  
CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY.  
TG: yea and youre up anyway  
CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW.  
TG: oh shit sorry

CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY.  
CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?  


Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you  
TG: thats how this works right?  
TG: i thought we could watch another movie  
TG: at my place  
TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you  
TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all  
CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN.  
TG: fucking called it  
CG: …  
CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE?  
TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo  
CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO.  
TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat  


Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.  


He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it  
TG: its not hard to intuit  
TG: when we come out to debut  
TG: sit by the yo then well go round  
TG: downtown get the lowdown  
TG: before we get busy in the hissie  
TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty  
TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie  
CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.  


Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

* * *

_Jesus Fucking Christ._ Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

> *** Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. ~~Wants to spend time with me.~~ Insane. ~~We have that much in common.~~**

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

> “How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure”  
>  Written by Karkat Vantas
> 
> Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience. 
> 
> The first step is **the victim**. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.
> 
> The second step is **the hook**. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

* * *

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her. 

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding _and_ continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly. 

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally. 

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking _years_.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens you got to trade for me?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture. 

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

* * *

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally). 

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake. 

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or—”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning. 

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me—,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I—”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.” 

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could. 

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but—”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure _he_ wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should. 

He stayed where he was. 

* * *

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too. 

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to _that_ problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals. 

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

* * *

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even _listen_ without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them. 

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him. 

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date _you_ , not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults—it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

* * *

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, _finally,_ did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic. 

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time. 

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

* * *

> *** Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? ~~Wants to date the “real” me.~~ Delusional. ~~Comfortable arm.~~ ~~Had a nice time.~~ Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower??? **


	3. Being Yourself

##  Day 3:

Since Karkat had not managed to scare Dave off with the... outburst yesterday, he figured he’d hooked the idiot as well as he was ever going to. Which meant it was time to start fucking it up. He did his best to ignore the sense of loss already forming in his chest at the thought. Whatever frustrations he’d felt during that hang out/date thing Dave had put him through yesterday, he couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed the experience, too.

Dave was a dork who talked too much, but he was also witty and charming in a maladroit sort of way. And it had been nice to have someone appreciate Karkat’s sense of humor in return. For once. A part of him wished he had longer to enjoy their time together, but he knew better.

Since he knew better, he also knew it wasn’t the time to mope. It was time to go on the full offensive. “Offensive” being the operative word. In this case, it meant acting like himself. Karkat had been on his best behavior up to this point, and now he’d show Dave who the “real him” really was. If he played his cards right, he probably wouldn’t even have to go on another date to seal the deal.

Karkat felt his eyes ache, and he hated himself for being such an idiot. He’d known this wasn’t going to last—even without his article, it never would have lasted. He’d already proven a countless number of times that, while a fairly good friend, he was simply terrible as a romantic partner. Dave was just one more guy he’d never really had a chance with. Just one more tally mark to add to his failures.

* * *

When Dave woke up the next day, he saw that he had quite a few messages waiting for him. A handful from Rose about wedding plans (with a reminder of the dress code, because of course her wedding would have a fully defined dress code). A bunch from his far-flung friend Jade (mostly telling a story which did not require more than a quick “cool” on his part). A couple from John (who was excited that he’d be seeing Dave at the wedding). There were also several from Karkat. Which was kind of a relief: Dave hadn’t liked that he’d been the first one to message him all the time: it made him feel like he was bugging the guy. Especially after waking him up yesterday.

CG: OKAY ASSHOLE, HERE’S THE DEAL:  
CG: YOU WANT TO DATE THE REAL ME. FINE.  
CG: I AM DONE BEING ON MY BEST BEHAVIOR.  
CG: BE PREPARED FOR ME TO COMMENT ON EVERY INANITY THAT DRIBBLES FROM YOUR MOUTH LIKE THE LEAVINGS OF AN INCONTINENT PIGEON.  
CG: YOU ARE NOT HALF AS FUNNY AS YOU THINK YOU ARE. ALSO YOUR “RAPS” ARE AN AFFRONT TO THE GENRE AS WELL AS TO THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.  
CG: IF YOU THINK I AM JOKING OR BEING “CUTE”, YOU ARE WRONG. A STATE YOU SHOULD BE EXTREMELY FAMILIAR WITH BECAUSE YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY SUFFERING FROM AT LEAST MODERATE BRAIN DAMAGE.  
CG: I AM NOT NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN “A SNACK”. I ALSO DO NOT HAVE A “SEXY PROFESSOR THING GOING”. IN THE ENTIRE SPAN OF MY MISERABLE EXISTENCE, I HAVE NEVER BEEN ANYTHING WHICH COULD BE CONSIDERED TO BE IN EVEN THE MEAGEREST OF WAYS “SEXY”.  
CG: MAYBE YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO SEE THAT FOR YOURSELF IF YOU EVER TOOK OFF THOSE DOUCHE SHADES YOU ARE ALWAYS WEARING.  
CG: I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS SMALL TASTE OF WHAT IS TO COME IN YOUR FUTURE SHOULD YOU DECIDE TO KEEP DATING ME.

Dave read the messages a few times, frowning. Mostly, he felt confused, too confused to feel either amused or insulted. Sudden. This was sudden. Also, the more he read the messages, the more he thought Karkat was being more mean to himself than to Dave. His inner Rose (the voice which sounded like Rose but was not nearly as smart as the real thing) said that Karkat was lashing out, hoping to hurt Dave before Dave could hurt him.

And wasn’t that sad?

TG: first of all  
TG: you are a total snack  
TG: this is not negotiable  
TG: do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars  
TG: not to be all objectifying or whatever  
TG: but that was literally the first thing i thought when i saw you  
TG: that guy is a total snack  
TG: and fuck you you are sexy  
TG: i bet you look even better without the sweater  
TG: you are the bank and im the debtor  
TG: payin compliments is my cheddar  
TG: need proof read the letter  
TG: dear mr vantas you are hella sexy signed me  
CG: OH MY GOD.  
CG: THAT WAS THE PART YOU CHOSE TO FOCUS ON. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU AT ALL. MOST PEOPLE DON’T LIKE BEING INSULTED. IS THIS A KINK FOR YOU? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS? ARE YOU A FUCKING MASOCHIST?

Dave was grinning so much his cheeks hurt. Nailed it.

TG: im not a masochist  
TG: but i think i might be getting a thing for grumpy assholes  
TG: it needs more testing  
TG: how about we hang out for a few hours today  
TG: and see

“CG is typing” appeared and disappeared several times.

CG: REALLY. YOU REALLY WANT TO KEEP DATING ME.  
TG: yea unless you dont want to keep dating me  
TG: i hope you do  
TG: want to keep dating me  
TG: i want to know you better  
TG: and kiss you sometime

This time the “CG is typing” message went on for quite a while. Dave wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have sent that last message. Then again, he’d already called the guy sexy several times; saying he wanted to kiss him wasn’t weird.

CG: IF YOU’RE SURE YOU WANT TO KEEP DOING THIS, THEN FINE. OKAY. I THINK I WANT TO GET TO KNOW YOU BETTER TOO. JUST REMEMBER I GAVE YOU AMPLE WARNING OF WHAT THE REAL ME IS LIKE. WHEN I INEVITABLY END UP HURTING YOUR FEELINGS, YOU WILL HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELF.  
TG: score

* * *

After, unwisely, agreeing to meet Dave at the park again before going to some secret secondary date destination he had in mind, Karkat slipped his phone into his pocket in a daze. He was still reeling. Where had he misjudged this situation? He’d been certain he’d done enough to scare Dave away, and yet, here he was with another date to prepare for. Masochism or brain damage—those were the only options. Considering how much Dave had insisted on Karkat’s attractiveness, he was leaning towards the latter.

Of course, the words alone were only half of the total package. Even Dave would find difficulty deriving whatever enjoyment he got out of Karkat’s insults when they were being delivered at an ear-ringing volume. Karkat heaved a deep sigh. All he had to do was be himself on this date. That had always been enough for every other person he’d dated to leave him. Dave would be no different: he was just dumber, so it was taking him longer to get with the program.

*** ~~Thinks I’m “sexy”.~~ Definite brain damage. Probable masochist. Raps have not increased in quality ~~but I’m starting to get used to them.~~**

* * *

The problem was Dave knew what _he_ liked to do, what _he_ found fun, but he didn’t know Karkat well enough yet to have much of an idea of what _Karkat_ liked to do. Usually, Dave would have just asked, but seeing as Karkat had just been prepared to be dumped, he didn’t think the question would go over well.

When Dave approached the YO this time, Karkat was already sitting on the bench. His head was bowed over his notepad, and he was furiously writing. Although tempted to look over his shoulder and see what he was doing, Dave decided not to. If it turned out to be something deeply personal, he’d feel like a creep.

Whatever it was held Karkat’s full attention. Dave could be very stealthy, but he wasn’t even trying to be quiet as he got closer. Finally, he was standing right beside where Karkat was sitting. Still nothing. Remembering the reaction he’d gotten the other day, he flopped down close to Karkat, making the other man jump. “Hey.”

Karkat brought his notepad up to his chest, hiding it, and glared. Despite his clear irritation and the roominess of the bench, he didn’t move away. “What the fuck, Dave? Are you incapable of conducting yourself like a normal person? Or am I just special?”

Dave grinned. Looked like Karkat had meant what he’d said about acting more like himself. “I don’t know, you are pretty special. Not in the Special Olympics way,” he hastened to add as he realized his compliment might not come across complimentary. “I mean, nothing against them, they’re great,” he continued, now realizing the actual insult he was now offering _them_ and not wanting to be _that guy_ , “but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

A sort of disbelieving half-smile. “Should I stop you now, or let you keep going?”

“Oh, definitely stop me,” Dave said, relieved. He gestured to the notepad Karkat was no longer holding so tightly against himself. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing important,” Karkat said brusquely, shoving the notepad into his bag as though it had personally offended him. “Something for my work.”

It occurred to Dave that he actually had no idea what Karkat did for a living. “What do you do?”

For a moment, Karkat only regarded him with deep suspicion. Then he sighed. “I write for Dubiously Cultured.” Apparently, Dave’s confusion showed on his face, for he elaborated, “It’s basically a gay Cosmo.” Then he frowned. “You know, a magazine with fashion tips? Make-up? Relationship advice?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dave said quickly. The last thing he wanted was for his eyes to glaze over on his date like they did when Rose started talking about _her_ magazine (whose title he could not recall at this moment if he’d been being held at gunpoint). “Are you writing an article? Laying down the keep your man tips for the masses?”

Even Karkat seemed surprised by the laughter abruptly bursting from him. “Something like that,” he said once he’d recovered. “You work as a DJ at the Glass, right?”

Honestly, Dave was shocked. He’d been sure Karkat had been just tuning him out! Then again, he had remembered he was from Texas, too. Maybe he just always looked bored and pissed off. “Yeah. It’s not super steady, but it pays the bills.” It actually didn’t pay the bills; Rose’s mom (his mom, she was also his mom) sent him money every month to pay for the apartment and various other expenses. However, his sad family history wasn’t exactly third date material. “You ever been?”

Karkat leveled Dave with a skeptical look which seemed to indicate his estimation of Dave’s intelligence had started low and was only getting lower. “Do I look like the kind of person that would get past a bouncer? Are you actually visually impaired, or are you making fun of me?” He shook his head. “I can see myself in the mirror, jackass; I know what I look like. Stop pretending I’m,” he held up his hands to make the finger quotes, ‘hot’.”

“I’m insulted you would think I’d lie about your hotness. You’re a fucking rooftop in the middle of a Texas summer. I should know; I’ve been there.” The metaphor stirred up memories Dave didn’t want to think about, and he wrapped an arm around Karkat’s shoulder. He immediately wished he’d done it sooner. “Anyway, I’ve already told you, you are a snack. You might as well accept it. It’s obvious. Everyone with eyes can see it. Not you, for some reason, but everyone else.”

“That’s just not true, Dave.” Before he could contest this, Karkat continued, “Most blind people still have eyes, idiot, and they can’t see anything, let alone support your dubious assertion that I’m attractive.” The words practically dripped with sarcasm even as he settled into Dave’s half-embrace. “You’re being so fucking insensitive right now.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.” The part of Dave not worrying about the words flowing out of his mouth registered how nice and warm Karkat felt under his arm and pressed against his side. “Well, if they got to feel you up, they’d agree you were a snack, too. So, checkmate, Karkat. Check fucking mate. You’re just going to have to accept it. Majority vote. You’re a snack.”

Karkat looked up. “If you tell me you want to eat me, I’m leaving now and blocking your chumhandle.” Then his gaze shifted away. “This is nice,” he said, his voice softer than Dave had thought he was capable of. Maybe it was Dave’s burgeoning hearing loss, but he sounded… sad.

While Dave wanted to ask why he sounded so sad, he figured Karkat would tell him if he wanted him to know. After all, they still hadn’t known each other for very long yet. What was needed was a distraction, and Dave had just the thing to cheer both of them up. “If you think this is nice, you should be super excited for our date.”

* * *

Karkat had been feeling guilty again. It really had been nice, sitting on that bench in front of that giant art installation, to pretend that there was actually some sort of future for them. For him and Dave. Together. So, he’d been feeling guilty—even if he was an idiot who talked too much, Dave wasn’t a bad guy, and he didn’t deserve what Karkat planned on putting him through.

At least, that’s what Karkat had been thinking until they’d arrived at their final destination.

“A karaoke bar?” Karkat felt a scowl furrow his brow, and he turned it onto Dave, who had the audacity to be grinning at him. “It might interest you to know that I can’t fucking sing.”

Dave shrugged. “No one can at these places, Karkat. That’s why it’s fun.” He pushed his glasses down his nose, allowing Karkat the briefest glimpse of his eyes before he pushed them up again. “You’ve had fun before right? Or do we have to go slow and ease you into it, because fun is a hotel pool with a broken heater, and you haven’t raided the mini-bar yet.”

“Of course I know what fun is, you festering anal wart.” He saw himself ranting reflected in the lenses of Dave’s stupid glasses and looked away. “Fun is a walk in the park, or watching a movie, or going on a picnic, or playing a game. Fun is _not_ embarrassing yourself in front of dozens of strangers by subjecting them to what can only laughingly be called your singing voice!” He started at the unexpected hand on his shoulder but made no move to shrug it off.

“Hey,” Dave said quietly, “if you really don’t want to be here, we can do something else. I don’t really know what you like yet outside of chick flicks. And writing for a magazine. And coming up with creative insults for me.” His grip on Karkat’s shoulder tightened slightly. “Help me out here, Karkat; I’m drowning with only seconds left to live. You’re the hot lifeguard, and I’m gonna need your sweet lips on mine fairly soon, or else I’m leaving the beach in a body bag. And no one wants that.”

Karkat turned back to face Dave. There were so many things to unpack in this latest offering of word vomit that he wasn’t even going to make the attempt. “Do you ever actually listen to the things you say?”

“I try not to,” Dave said blithely. “Messes with my flow.” Then the smile faded. “I mean it, though. If you want to go somewhere else, we totally can. I don’t have my heart set on this place; I just thought it’d be fun. Maybe you’d loosen up a little.”

“I am exactly as loose as I want to be,” Karkat sniped back, tacitly admitting that now he was the one saying stupid things. As much as he wanted to make things difficult for Dave for the sake of his article, he really couldn’t deny being touched that Dave was willing to change his plans because Karkat had complained about them.

Besides, while Karkat could be (and often was) loudly unpleasant and vulgar, it wasn’t the kind of thing he could force. He had to feel it. And he wasn’t feeling it. “No, we can stay. Just are there private rooms?”

Dave was frowning, perhaps in displeasure, perhaps in thought. “We can check.”

* * *

It turned out that there were private rooms, but they were prohibitively expensive. If this had been something Karkat had really wanted to do, Dave would have shelled out the cash, but he’d known he’d made the right call to spend the date elsewhere when he’d given Karkat the verdict and his shoulders had immediately relaxed.

Although Karkat had also protested that he wasn’t much better at bowling than he was at singing, he’d seemed less agitated about the prospect. He’d actually smiled a little when Dave had confided that he, too, wasn’t much of a bowler. Dave also wasn’t much of a drinker, but when Karkat offered to buy him a beer, he’d accepted it.

Dave was currently sipping his apple? flavored ale from the chair in their section of the alley and watching Karkat lob yet another ball down the gutter. This made, what? the tenth in a row? Dave had managed via blind luck to hit a strike with his first shot—a feat he had not been able to repeat—and that had pissed Karkat off like nothing else. Each additional failure to even get his ball any closer to hitting any of the pins only made Karkat’s face redder.

The only question was when he was going to pop.

“FUCK!” Karkat stomped back to the ball return. “FUCK ME, FUCK BOWLING, AND FUCK YOU, DAVE. YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME? NEWSFLASH, FUCK FACE, YOU ARE JUST AS OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE AT THIS AS I AM—AT LEAST *I* HAVE THE FUCKING DECENCY TO BE ASHAMED OF MYSELF!”

Dave made absolutely no attempt to hold back his laughter.

“Hey, do you mind watching your language?” An older man in the next lane was giving Karkat quite an impressive glare. “There are kids present.”

Karkat’s face went purple.

* * *

“Well, Karkat,” Dave said as they walked down the street to no stated destination, his tone infuriatingly casual, “I can honestly say I’ve never been kicked out of a bowling alley before. I can scratch that off the old bucket list. It wasn’t on there because I hadn’t thought of it, but now I see I was blind to the possibilities. Thanks for opening my third eye or some shit like that.”

Karkat had let Dave put his stupid arm around his shoulders about a block back, and he hated the fact it felt so comforting. Bad enough he’d made an ass out of himself over nothing in public (again!), but it hadn’t even worked. He’d wanted to piss Dave off by showcasing his abhorrent personality, and he’d failed miserably. It wasn’t even his fault he’d failed either. For some inscrutible fucking reason, the idiot found temper tantrums hilarious to watch rather than embarrassing to be associated with. “Fuck you, Dave,” he said quietly, his energy quite spent.

Dave chuckled. Case in fucking point. “Aw come on, don’t be like that. It’s not like we’re banned from the place.” He paused. “I’m probably not going to get you to go there again anyway, am I?”

“I am never stepping foot back into that establishment, no.”

“Are you still pissed at me for that strike?” Dave’s voice sounded disbelieving. Maybe a little hurt. “I told you, man, it was a fluke. I wasn’t trying to hustle you. If I’d wanted to hustle you, there’d be money involved. That’s how that shit works. It’s like the definition of a hustle.”

Karkat sighed. “No, I’m not mad about that.” He hadn’t really been _that_ mad about it in the bowling alley either. He’d just been frustrated. Loudly. Which was how he usually expressed his frustration. In the moment, it made him feel better… afterwards, he just felt tired. “I’m just really fucking embarrassed, okay? I know embarrassment is probably a foreign concept for _you_ , but—”

Then he was being hugged. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed into it. He knew he shouldn’t be accepting Dave’s comfort, that this was only going to make things harder in the long run, but he couldn’t help himself. He really was such a selfish asshole. His head fell naturally against Dave’s shoulder, and he felt a distressingly familiar ache in his eyes. “Why are you hugging me?”

A soft guff of laughter blew past his ear. “Dude, you looked like you needed a hug. I’m not a hug expert or anything, but sometimes you look at a guy and think, that guy, he needs a hug.” The arms around him held him just a little tighter. “I hope you leave me a good review on yelp.”

Karkat choked on his unexpected laughter. “Dave. You are so fucking ridiculous.” As much as a part of him wanted to remain in his arms, he knew if he stayed any longer, he really would start crying. “Let go of me, asshole.”

Dave did so with only a moment’s hesitation. He put his hands on his hips. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Karkat successfully resisted the urge to wipe his eyes. With any luck, Dave wouldn’t notice how tear bright they probably were. Why was he getting so emotional anyway? None of this would matter soon enough.

“My review,” Dave said as though Karkat should have any idea what he was talking about. “Five out of five stars, right? Don’t crash my yelp score, dude—I have a reputation to maintain as hug master supreme; it’s all I have.”

And Karkat was laughing again. It really felt good.

* * *

*** ~~Gives nice hugs.~~ Doesn’t respect personal space. Karaoke bar? Shitty bowler. ~~Why isn’t this working?~~**

* * *

> The third step is **the ego**. For Dr. Freud (famous psychology hack), the ego was a moderator. For our purposes, we return to the original Latin: I. Make it all about you and your comfort. If you have had enough of your short-term partner’s incessant prattle, say so. When you want to scream, do it at the top of your lungs. Use whatever language feels best to you at all times regardless of the situation. Make your short-term partner embarrassed to be associated with you. If you can get you and your short-term partner kicked out of an establishment due to your behavior, so much the better. However, if you find that such antics only serve to amuse your short-term partner, cease them immediately. The point of this exercise is to humiliate your short-term partner, not further endear you to them. Also, in the event that you are more embarrassed by your conduct than your short-term partner is, under no circumstances allow them to comfort you. It will only distract you from your objective.


	4. Cling wrapped

##  Day 4:

Karkat looked at his phone for a long time. He knew what he was going to do, what he had to do, but he found himself reluctant to start. Although the date itself had been a disaster, there had been parts of it, parts he felt himself flushing to remember, that had been nice. The kind of nice a person could get used to. 

Not that Karkat was dumb enough to entertain for a moment that even Dave was stupid enough to keep wanting Karkat around long enough for that to happen. There wasn’t any point in thinking about what could have been because it couldn’t have been. Karkat was just saving both of them some time. Besides, he had that article to write. 

And, frankly, Dave deserved better. 

Resolved, Karkat picked up his phone and opened Pesterchum. It was time to cling. 

* * *

When Dave woke up at 3:00 in the afternoon to get ready for his DJ job at the club, he’d been startled to see that he had close to 200 messages from Karkat waiting for him on his phone. What the fuck had happened? The first thing he’d felt as he’d started reading them had been relief that they were all so mundane. Shit like HOW ARE YOU? and I WAS JUST WATCHING THIS MOVIE AND I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING YOU’D SAY and HAVE YOU EVER SEEN LOVE ACTUALLY?

As he read on, though, the messages started taking on a more worrying tone. WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU EVEN READING THESE?. Then even darker. I KNEW I SHOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN MY HOPES UP.

Holy shit. Dave didn’t even bother to read up to the newest ones. Instead, he started typing. 

TG: karkat are you alright?  
TG: i was just sleeping  
TG: do you need me to call you?  
TG: i dont actually have your phone number though  
TG: are you there?  
TG: karkat  
TG: karkat  
TG: ill do this all day if i have to

Dave felt a surge of unadulterated relief flow through him when he finally saw the “CG is typing” notification appear. At least he was able to type!

CG: I’M FINE.   
CG: WHERE WERE YOU?  
TG: sleeping all the kids are doing it  
TG: especially the cool ones like me  
CG: OH. YOU MUST THINK I’M PRETTY STUPID.  
TG: nah i get it  
TG: sometimes you just need to know someones listening  
TG: it sucks when you dont get a response  
TG: i wouldnt ignore your texts on purpose  
TG: that would be a major dick move  
TG: and as you said last night  
TG: im just a prick  
TG: so i do little jerk things  
TG: like talk while youre watching a movie  
TG: or put too much butter on popcorn  
TG: which you are totally wrong about fyi  
TG: just so you know

Right. Probably should let Karkat say something. He didn’t have long to wait.

CG: THAT’S SURPRISINGLY UNDERSTANDING OF YOU.   
TG: thats me surprisingly understanding  
TG: hey i need to get ready for work  
TG: but ill get to your texts as soon as i can  
TG: okay?

Whatever Karkat’s response was, it seemed to be a long one.

CG: FINE. THANK YOU.

Huh. 

TG: of course karkat anytime ttyl

* * *

Karkat set down his phone and rubbed his eyes. 

* * *

> The fourth step is **the cling**. Blow up your short-term partner’s phone. Make them regret the day they ever gave you their phone number. Send them hundreds of texts, and try to be as needy as possible. For bonus points, try to text them while they are sleeping. Even if you do not manage to wake them up (as my short-term partner did to me), you can still expect to stress them out in the morning when they find themselves absolutely inundated by messages clamoring for their attention. Unfortunately, this will not work if your short-term partner is the kind of doormat who finds such messages concerning rather than confounding. In that case, you will only feel guilt for making them worry. Proceed with caution!

  
  


##  Day 5:

When Karkat had texted him in the afternoon with an offer to make Dave dinner, Dave hadn’t known what to think. The guy was so private, it was surprising that he’d want to invite Dave to his apartment already. They hadn’t even known each other a week! Not that Dave was an expert on how this sort of thing should go. It didn’t seem right to compare the girls he’d dated with the first guy he was seriously trying to pursue, but he’d never gotten this close to someone so quickly before!

Of course, maybe this invitation was less about their closeness and more about Karkat wanting to avoid going out in public for a while. Which was fair: Karkat obviously hadn’t had nearly as much fun blowing his stack as Dave had had watching him. Though the opportunity to bestow a comforting hug had been a nice bonus.

Whatever the reason, Dave was low-key (high-key) excited to see what kind of place Karkat called home. 

* * *

Karkat wiped his brow and surveyed the scene. The kitchen was a mess, and he wasn’t going to clean it up. He wasn’t. This was about making a terrible impression, and he wasn’t going to thwart his own goals. Again. 

The smell coming from the oven was not promising. Which was exactly what he’d wanted. He wasn’t a terrible cook, generally--he could follow directions and hold a knife without cutting himself--, but he didn’t tend to cook anything too complicated. More laziness and lack of desire to do a lot of dishes afterwards than anything. 

For this dinner, he pulled out all the stops. And shoved them right back in. 

He’d decided to go with a meatloaf. It had been trivially easy to ruin: extra breadcrumbs, giant raggedly cut chunks of onion, and enough garlic to choke an army of vampires. As a side, he had a sticky, gloopy mess he was going to pretend were mashed potatoes. The gravy he was particularly proud of: half a jar of beef bouillon powder and cornstarch mixed with water he’d boiled down into an unhale brown sludge which he’d then proceeded to load with pepper. The vegetable was sweet corn niblets from the can. It was really hard to believably fuck up corn. All he had to do was heat it up--even the disaster chef he was pretending to be could manage that much. 

Assuming Dave somehow made it through dinner without fleeing, there was also dessert: a jello mold so chock full of fruit it was never going to set. Not that it would have set with a reasonable amount of fruit either. Even following the directions, Karkat had never successfully prepared jello. Maybe he was just too impatient? Or maybe the water was too hard? Was that something that affected jello?

Whatever. The important thing was that dessert was going to be the cherry on the top of this colossal shit sundae. 

This would be an early dinner since Dave had to work, but there would still be plenty of time. He wondered if Dave would pretend to enjoy the meal for his sake, or if he would ramble what he really thought despite himself. Even though his facial expressions were difficult to interpret at times, Karkat had found Dave to be extremely free with whatever was on his mind. Most of what he said was nonsense, little jokes or rhymes or observations, but it all sounded so weirdly genuine that Dave either was a consummate liar or he was incapable of the feat entirely. 

Sometimes though, he said other things. Things that Karkat had no business knowing considering his motive for being in this sham of a relationship. Things about lonely nights and therapy, about missing his friends and worries he wasn’t doing enough with his life. If Karkat were a better person, he’d tell Dave to be more mindful about what he said--there were bound to be people in Dave’s future relationships (why did that thought still hurt?) who would take advantage of the knowledge Dave gave so freely and use it against him. 

But Karkat wasn’t going to do the decent thing, because he was a selfish asshole. He didn’t want Dave to start censoring himself: the endless stream of consciousness was frequently annoying, yes, but it was comforting, too, to be around someone so unguarded. He had such moments with his closest friends, but they were moments: Dave was open all the time. While Karkat wasn’t nearly stupid enough not to realize Dave was probably this open with everyone (the filterless idiot), the apparent trust did things to Karkat’s insides he pretended not to notice. 

He’d noticed, of course, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Acknowledging it meant facing his feelings head on, and this whole situation was turning out to be far more painful in practice than it had been in theory as it was. Besides, whether he acknowledged it or not, the ending was the same--emphasis on “ending”. There was no point: this wasn’t going to last long enough for any of that to matter. And it wouldn’t have lasted anyway even without the article, and the fact that he was standing here and feeling disappointed meant he was an even bigger idiot than Dave.

He frowned down at the washcloth in his hand then looked at his freshly cleaned counters. His shoulders slumped with a sigh. Goddamn it.

* * *

Dave could barely contain his excitement as he was buzzed into Karkat’s apartment. As soon as the door opened, he could smell something cooking. It smelled amazing, but that was only on the periphery of his thoughts. He’d been expecting Karkat to order pizza or chinese or something like that, that he’d only been invited over to Karkat’s apartment because Karkat didn’t want to show his face in public. He hadn’t been expecting that Karkat would be cooking him an actual, honest to god, home cooked meal! He thought he might start tearing up right now. 

“Dave?”

He shook his head. “Hey, Karkat,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound like he was about to cry. “This your place?”

“No, Dave,” Karkat returned sardonically. “I’ve broken into someone else’s apartment so I could use their kitchen.” He stepped back. “Come in, already. You’ll make the neighbors nervous.”

As Dave entered the apartment, he saw that the livingroom area looked lived in. There was clutter, but it was cluttered in a way which suggested some kind of arcane organization. Posters of awful romantic comedies were proudly framed on the walls, but that wasn’t much of a surprise--he’d already known Karkat liked those unironically. Everything looked clean, not that Dave was a great judge of that sort of thing. All he could smell was garlic and onion coming from the kitchen part of the room, which was also clean. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” 

Karkat smiled that sort of half-smile that Dave had already come to understand meant he was nervous. He plucked a small package off the coffee table and thrust it at Dave’s chest. “This is for you. I hope you like it.”

Were they at the present stage already? Damn, Dave had to up his game! “Aw, sick, dog. I’m sure I’ll love it. I have very low standards for this kind of thing.” Shit. “I bet it’s gonna be great is what I meant. I’m just saying you don’t have to be worried about disappointing me.” Unable to face Karkat’s incredulous stare, he turned his attention to the small wrapped thing in his hands. It felt like a statue of some kind, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Can I open it?”

“Of course you can fucking open it. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t want you to open it, idiot.”

“Cool.” Immediately, he started to peel away the bright red wrapping paper. As he’d expected, it was a statue. He still wasn’t quite sure what it was a statue of, but he loved it, and not just because it had been a gift. Maybe it was a horse? It had enough legs, and it seemed to have hooves. The colors were no help--bright clashing blues and pinks applied in a way that suggested the Chinese factory worker who had painted it could not have given less of a shit. Which was fair. Of course, if it was a horse, something had gone horribly wrong with its anatomy. At least, he was pretty sure the neck wasn’t supposed to bend that way. The base that the creature stood on had the word “grace” written in huge, sloppy capitals.

“What do you think?”

“I fucking love it.” Dave looked up and saw Karkat gaping at him. 

“Really. You really like that thing?”

“Dude, I live for this fucking shit.” It occurred to him that calling his present ‘shit’ might not come across as complimentary. “I have a whole collection of stuff like this. This little guy,” he waggled the statue at Karkat, “will have the fucking place of honor. I’ll put it right next to my ‘I heart NYC’ merch.”

Karkat was blinking. Then his mouth fell open. “Your merch? You fucking live here; why the fuck would you want tourist garbage?”

Dave laughed. “Dude, I’m an absolute slut for apples, and now I live in the biggest one in the world--what’s not to love?” He flung his arms around Karkat for a quick hug. Like the first time, Karkat stiffened before relaxing. “Thanks, man.”

A shaky sigh and then a muffled “Your welcome” before Karkat stepped back. He was blushing. “Dinner’s just about done,” he said. “Let’s go eat it before it fucking burns.”

* * *

The moment of truth. The present hadn’t worked (at least, unless Dave was the world’s best actor, it hadn’t worked), but this… this would work. Karkat watched with a shiver of anticipatory glee (laced with something he absolutely wasn’t going to call guilt) as Dave pushed his fork through a piece of meatloaf and brought it to his mouth.

Then it disappeared between his lips, and he started to chew. His expression did not change. He didn’t spit it out, and he wasn’t reaching for the cup of apple juice next to him to wash it down. Instead he chewed it almost as though he needed to give the action his full attention.

Was this a good sign? “Well?” he prompted, no longer able to bear the suspense. “Is it just like mom used to make?”

Dave startled then swallowed. It was impossible for Karkat to tell with those glasses what kind of look he was being given. “I’ve never seen rr-uh, my mom cook. I don’t think she knows how?” He scooped up another bite of meatloaf and ate it without so much as a grimace. “By the time I met her in person, I was already old enough to fly the coop. That was like almost ten years ago now. I’ll have to ask next time I see her.”

Karkat frowned, pushing his own food around the plate. That was the part of this plan he hadn’t considered when he’d come up with it: he had to eat this slop, too. He definitely wasn’t going to enjoy it as much as Dave seemed to. “Were you adopted or something?” he asked, both hoping to put the moment he’d have to put any of this in his mouth off as long as he could as well as to sate his curiosity. It occurred to him that, of all the things Dave nattered on about, he hadn’t said much about his childhood beyond mentioning Texas. “Where did you live before?”

“Not exactly. It’s all kinds of complicated. But before I met her, I lived with Bro back in Texas.” When he continued, Dave’s voice held a note of bitterness Karkat hadn’t heard from him before. “Before you ask, he never cooked jack shit for me. Definitely never made me meatloaf.”

The desire to avoid eating warred with the reluctance to poke at a sensitive topic and won. “What did you eat then?”

“Bro ordered out a lot when he was there,” he said after he’d finished chewing. “Sometimes I was lucky and scored some AJ--best fucking stuff on the planet. I kept instant ramen in my closet for when he was on tour with Lil’ Cal or for when he didn’t buy anything, but I mostly ate that raw.” He popped another bite into his mouth as though he hadn’t just finished saying something extremely disturbing about his childhood.

Karkat was sincerely sorry he’d asked. Guilt bloomed in his gut: for prying and for serving such a terrible meal when he could have done so much better. He tried to shove the feeling away. It wasn’t as though Dave was disappointed in the lackluster fare… This rationalization only made him feel worse. The silence stretching between them was becoming stifling, and Karkat latched onto the least important thing Dave had said. “Instant ramen is the fucking easiest thing there is to cook. Why would you eat it raw?” Then he remembered his friend, Nepeta. “Are you one of those people who like it better that way?”

A tight shrug. “It’s hard to cook anything when there’s katanas on the counters and puppets in the microwave.” Something resembling a smile. “Not a lot of cooking happening at Casa de Strider is what I’m saying. I don’t even think we owned any pans.” Then he cut off another piece of meat and dipped it in the gravy he’d liberally applied to everything on his plate, his expression brightening again. “But this is some bomb meatloaf. Best I’ve ever had.” He tilted his head. “Aren’t you going to eat any?”

“Oh.” Karkat set down his fork. “I’m not feeling very hungry.” The twisting of Dave’s mouth only made him feel worse. “I had a big lunch; that’s all.”

Dave made a sort of concerned mmm noise but tucked into the food.

* * *

Even after years of therapy and coming to accept that how he’d been raised wasn’t normal (it had been abusive, he knew that, but that was sometimes difficult to parse even now), Dave still found himself surprised by the reactions he got whenever he shared anything about his past. The food was good, but not enough to keep him from noticing how long the silence between him and Karkat had grown. When he looked up, he saw Karkat absently pushing a fork through his meatloaf, his face a picture of miserable contemplation. Shit. Shit, he’d done it again. He swallowed down a mouthful of mashed potatoes so he could say something. 

“Sorry for, uh, dumping that on you,” he said. “Before, I mean. You didn’t sign up for the Dave Strider Trauma Newsletter. I just sort of shoved that shit right under your door without so much as knocking first.”

Karkat blinked. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He frowned deeply as though genuinely confused. “Why the fuck should _you_ apologize? It’s not your fault you had a shitty childhood.” Then he looked away. “I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business. I could tell you were uncomfortable, but I still barreled right ahead like the inconsiderate asshole I am anyway.” His eyes flicked up again. “I’m sorry for prying and for making you think you had to apologise to me for it.”

For several seconds, all Dave could do was stare. Karkat had noticed he’d been uncomfortable? Although he’d been working on being more expressive, only the select few could tell when he wasn’t joking anymore. “No, it’s cool. We’re cool,” he assured him. “If you want to make it up to me, though,” he said with a wide smile, “I wouldn’t mind some more meatloaf.” He held the plate out for him to take.

Karkat eyed the plate for a second before rolling his eyes and taking it from him. “Of course. Anything else you want while I’m doing that?”

“I could use some more AJ, too, if you’ve got it.”

He really had a nice smile when he wasn’t scowling. “I think I can spare some.” 

When Karkat came back with the food, Dave felt the heavy atmosphere of before lifting. At least Karkat was talking again. “If you end up with a stomach ache,” he warned as he set the plate down in front of Dave, “I don’t want to hear about it.” Then he filled the glass from the pitcher he’d brought. “Understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Dave returned with a mocking version of the kind of irritated whine he so often heard Rose use. Saying the words reminded him of what he’d been thinking about earlier, when Karkat had so carefully served them dinner. “You’re the mom friend, aren’t you?”

“The what?” Karkat sat back down, a puzzled frown turning down his mouth. 

“The mom friend,” Dave repeated. “You know, the one who has to make sure everyone’s taking care of themselves. Wipes their noses, kisses their boo boos, and helps them clean up their messes.” Karkat’s eyebrows were rising higher with every word Dave spoke, and he wondered how high they could go. “The only thing you’re missing are the mom jeans. Which I bet you’d be able to pull off--from what I’ve seen, you’ve got the ass to fill them up right.” 

The eyebrows were quite high, but the growing flush on Karkat’s face from the compliment was really what made the whole effort worthwhile. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about my ass, first of all.” He crossed his arms, looking like he was trying very hard to be angry. The small smile gave him away. “Second of all, I don’t know what the fuck ‘mom jeans’ even are. And third of all…” he trailed off with a sigh. “You might be right: I certainly seem to be the one those cretins all run to when they’ve managed to make a mess of things through their idiocy. Not that they listen to anything I have to say. I suppose it’s my fault for thinking that when they ask me for help they actually want my advice.”

Dave grinned. He’d already gotten enough exposure to the way Karkat talked to understand that these people he was complaining about were important to him. “They sound like a handful,” he remarked before returning his attention back to the food.

“They are,” Karkat said. Then he proceeded to talk about them. There were more names than Dave could remember (though one he’d touched on briefly had sounded so familiar, he’d been certain he’d misheard it), but each one sounded like they’d be amazing to talk to. Only a few details out of the deluge of information stuck out. 

A couple of them liked to rap but were worse than Dave at it. 

One was a bi-polar motherfucker who was very good at coding and did fairly well keeping his two (2) girlfriends happy. These girlfriends were also Karkat’s friends.

One of them was interested in dead things like Dave was.

The friend with the name Dave was certain he’d misheard he didn’t remember anything about because he’d been too busy thinking that it would certainly be one hell of a coincidence if she had the same name as Rose’s fiance to listen to anything Karkat said about her.

A guy who Karkat assured Dave was “an even bigger failure with relationships than I am”, which had struck Dave as an odd thing to say. He might have missed another friend explanation or two as he’d puzzled about it. He’d remembered his earlier thought that Karkat might have had at least one bad relationship in the past, back when he was acting all deferential and quiet. Was that what he’d meant by that? Even if Dave had wanted to interrupt, he didn’t think asking would get him an answer yet.

The last friend Karkat described was a lawyer who was “as smart as she is insane.”

“Your friends sound awesome,” Dave said once Karkat had finished ranting. “I hope I can meet them sometime.”

Karkat froze a moment, making Dave think he’d overstepped some invisible quasi-boyfriend boundary, before he grinned. It didn’t look altogether friendly, but Dave was sure that was just his imagination. “That sounds like an excellent idea. I know just the one I want to introduce you to.”

When asked, Karkat refused to divulge, insisting that it would be a surprise.

* * *

Dave hadn’t had time for dessert, though he’d said, “I will be totally stoked for a rain check on that. If it was anywhere near as good as the meatloaf, I’m really missing out.” What he’d had time for had been a goodnight kiss.

Karkat had been so surprised, he hadn’t even had time to decide to kiss back or pull away before Dave broke it himself with a grin and walked out the door, leaving Karkat to stand in stunned silence. 

He closed the door. Mostly, the kiss had tasted of Karkat’s awful meatloaf, and he’d tried to focus on how disgusting the flavor of second-hand garlic and onions had been over how good the kiss had felt. 

* * *

> *** ~~He kissed me.~~ ~~Holy fuck he kissed me.~~ ~~Why the fuck would he do that?~~ He’s a presumptuous asshole. ~~I want him to do it again.~~**

* * *

> The fifth step is **the gift**. The gift can be anything as long as it is terrible. Cook a meal that is practically inedible. Raid the local dollar store for the cheapest, tackiest garbage you can find, and gift it to your short-term partner with great solemness and fanfare. If your short-term partner happens to live in a major tourist spot, buy them the chinciest tourist crude you can find, and watch the light drain from their eyes as they assure you that they love it. This step alone is unlikely to rid you of your short-term partner, but it can help ease the way forward. In the event that your chosen short-term partner is 1: a moron who likes terrible things ‘ironically’, 2: is actually excited to be residing in a tourist trap and ‘lives’ for overpriced garbage, 3: had a traumatic childhood which has left them with the ability to stomach anything, or 4: happens to have some combination of the first three traits, this step will not further your goal and should be skipped.


	5. Friends?

##  Day 6:

GC: WHY DO YOU W4NT M3 TO M33T YOUR BOYFR13ND 4G4IN?   
GC: SOUNDS L1K3 YOU H4V3 4LL TH1S W3LL 1N H4ND >: ]  
GC: > ; ]  
CG: STOP THAT.   
CG: DON’T EVEN FUCKING START WITH THE GODDAMNED WINKING.  
CG: I JUST THINK YOU WOULD GET ALONG WITH THE IDIOT.  
CG: THAT’S ALL.   
GC: TH4T SOUNDS 4S T3MPT1NG 4S 1T DO3S SUSP1C1OUS, K4RKL3S.

It was nearly impossible to fool Terezi. At least, Karkat had never managed the feat, and it seemed as though he wouldn’t be managing it this time, either. If it weren’t for the fact that he was running out of ideas, he wouldn’t be trying this one at all. 

CG: DO YOU WANT TO MEET HIM OR NOT?  
GC: G1V3 M3 ON3 GOOD R34SON B3S1D3S TH3 CH4NC3 TO HUM1L1AT3 YOU 1N FRONT OF YOUR D4T3 WHY 1 SHOULD.   
CG: YOU LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO.   
GC: YOU M4K3 4 CONV1NC1NG 4RGUM3NT. BUY M3 BR34KF4ST. 

* * *

Eating at a restaurant with Terezi was always an experience. She was mostly blind and seemed to really enjoy the opportunity to freak people out in a situation where no one involved could protest much without looking like the world’s greatest assholes. The last time Karkat had taken her out, the place they’d picked hadn’t had braille menus or an option for the visually impaired. Without missing a beat, she’d said that was fine and had started licking the menu. When asked to stop by the waitress, Terezi had claimed that she could see by sense of smell and that licking the menu made it easier to read.

They hadn’t been kicked out, but Karkat was never going to go there again.

At least this restaurant had braille menus, even if they made lousy coffee. Karkat watched with morbid fascination as Terezi tore into her pancakes with reckless abandon, syrup going everywhere. He wondered if she made such a mess because she couldn’t see what she was doing or if she just enjoyed her meals more that way. It wasn’t as though anyone was going to tell her how to eat.

“You’re being unnaturally quiet,” she commented with a mouth full of food. 

Karkat looked down at his own breakfast, a tidy cheese omelette. “Maybe I’m tired. Ever think of that?”

“You’re always tired.” She pointed her fork vaguely in his direction, a fat gob of syrup dripping off the tines to land on the table. “Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t sense the looming shadow of your ugly deceit. You’re hiding something. Why not save the court some time and confess?”

With deliberate slowness, Karkat took a bite of his breakfast. He made certain to chew it thoroughly before swallowing it down. Then he cut another piece and repeated the process.

“So you’re choosing to take the coward’s way out,” Terezi stated, lowering her fork back to her plate. “That won’t save you for long—you can’t make that omelette last forever.”

“Fucking watch me.”

“I can’t; I’m blind, remember?” Terezi glared through her glasses at something behind Karkat’s left shoulder. “You are being so insensitive right now. Why do I even grace you with my presence?”

Karkat rolled his eyes. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he? “How about because I’m paying for breakfast?”

“Question rescinded. The prosecution rests.”

For a while, the only sounds were the scraping of utensils and the chatter of the other patrons. It couldn’t, and didn’t, last.

“I seem to recall,” Terezi said, “that the last time I wanted to meet your new boyfriend, you told me, and I quote,” she sat up a bit, scowling fiercely, “‘I am perfectly capable of fucking this up _without_ your help, Pyrope.’” She relaxed again. “What’s different this time?”

Oh, he had said that, hadn’t he? “Terezi—”

“Are you just too much of a coward to break up with this guy by yourself?” she continued as though he hadn’t said anything. “I know you’re too much of a softy to break someone else’s heart on purpose, but do you really need me to hold your hand while you do it?”

“It’s not like that,” Karkat protested, feeling his face go hot. “I don’t _want_ to break up with him. I need _him_ to break up with _me_.” Immediately, he regretted his candor. “I mean—”

“You _need_ him to break up with you.” Terezi looked utterly baffled. “Why?”

“None of your business.” Even as he said the words, he knew he was wasting his time.

Now her lips were pursed with displeasure. “If you’re planning to weaponize our friendship to end your relationship—and let us take a moment to appreciate how hurtful that would be if I actually had any feelings—, then I think it _is_ my business. So, spill, Karkat. What did this guy do to you?”

“Nothing, all right?” Karkat set down his fork harder than necessary. “He hasn’t done anything besides be too stupid to realize what a terrible mistake he’s making by continuing to date me.”

Although they were hidden by her glasses, Karkat could feel Terezi’s sightless eyes boring through him. “Let me see if I understand this. You want a guy who wants to date you to break up with you because you think he shouldn’t want to date you?” She shook her head. “You’re not usually this stupid. What aren’t you telling me?”

At this point, Karkat only saw two ways to go forward: try to deflect Terezi until she wore him down like a bloodhound gnawing on a meaty bone, or just tell her now and save himself some time and stress on his vocal cords. “I’m writing an article about how to lose a guy as soon as possible. I started dating Dave six days ago, and I haven’t managed to scare him away on my own yet. So, I need your help. Will you help me?”

Silence. Then she started laughing. Not a normal person laugh, but a high pitched reedy cackle. “Karkat,” she said once she’d recovered, still wiping tears from her eyes, “you are the world’s biggest moron, you know that?” Not waiting for an answer, she added, “You’re always complaining about how you’ll never find anyone, and now that you’ve found someone who seems immune to your bullshit, you want him to dump you because of,” she started tittering again, “professional obligations?”

When she put it like that, it did sound stupid. Of course, that was ignoring the realities of the situation. The realities being that this relationship would have been doomed even without his ‘professional obligations’. She’d understand the issue once she’d met Dave for herself. “Will you help me or not?”

“Of course, I will,” she promised, her mouth pulled back into a predatory grin. “Don’t you worry a single hair on your shouty little head. Just leave it to me.”

* * *

When Karkat had asked if he could bring a friend over to Dave’s apartment, Dave had given him the okay, but he’d had mixed feelings. Although excited that he’d apparently crossed the ‘introduce to friends’ threshold, he’d also been disappointed. As much as he’d wanted to meet Karkat’s friends, he’d wanted to spend a little more one on one time before having to share him again. On the heels of that had come nervousness. Karkat was at least into Dave a bit—he wouldn’t keep dating him if he wasn’t: his friend had no reason whatsoever to like him.

When Karkat arrived around 4 in the afternoon with his friend in tow, Dave had managed to cycle through working himself into a frenzy back to being at least half-way normal again. The knock at the door startled him, but no one was there to see it, so that meant it didn’t necessarily happen. 

Opening the door revealed Karkat, of course, and a woman who was a little shorter than him. She was wearing bright red sunglasses which matched her crocs. The rest of her outfit consisted of a plain black t-shirt and teal pants. She was grinning in a way which exposed a Osmond family's worth of teeth. In one hand was a cane, like the kind blind people used, except there was a dragon head at the top. The other hand rested on Karkat’s arm.

“Hello, Dave,” Karkat greeted. “This is Terezi; Terezi, this is Dave.” 

She held out her hand, somehow managing to grin even more widely. “Charmed,” she said. 

Dave gave her hand a quick shake, noting the very strong grip. “Uh, likewise, dude. Come in.” He stepped back, and just in time, because Terezi started sweeping her cane around on the floor where his feet had been. “The, uh, futon is right over there.” Wait, that wasn’t helpful, was it? “I mean, to your left.”

Eventually, he directed her to the futon (though his coffee table took a beating). Karkat sat next to her, leaving her in the middle. Dave joined them after a moment’s hesitation. “That’s a pretty baller cane you got there,” Dave said, unsure what to say in this situation. 

“Thank you. I had it commissioned.” She turned her head to face Dave. “Did Karkat tell you I was blind?”

Honestly, he could have, and Dave wouldn’t have remembered. Even if Karkat hadn’t, it wouldn’t be great to throw him under the bus in front of his friend. “Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Liar,” she said simply. “Go on, ask. Ask me anything.”

Dave felt like he was being pranked—being a friend of John Egbert, he was very familiar with how that felt. So, instead of asking the obvious question, he played it cool. “Where’d you get those fly crocks? I’m super jelly up in here.”

Her grin became a little less feral. “Walmart specials.” She turned back to Karkat. “I like this one. You should keep him.”

Karkat grumbled something Dave couldn’t catch. Then he cleared his throat. “I brought UNO for us to play,” he said, taking a mostly white card box out of his pocket. “I didn’t think we had time for Monopoly. At least, not with the way Terezi plays it.”

Terezi gave Karkat a rather solid punch to the shoulder. “Shut up, Karkles. I’m supposed to be embarrassing _you_ , remember?”

“Karkles?” Dave was absolutely delighted. “Does that mean nicknames are go, because I have a whole mess of them just waiting to be shared. I’m like Santa all up in this with so many gifts to deliver to one Karkat Vantas.”

“Let’s hear them,” Terezi crooned, leaning forward in her seat in anticipation. 

“Let’s not,” Karkat returned, grumpily slouching down in his own seat. 

Dave snapped his fingers. “Sorry, Terezi, gonna have to side with my boy here.” Then he leaned a little closer and stage whispered, “I’ll share them with you later.”

Terezi chortled. “Sounds good, cool kid.”

Karkat flipped them both off, being sure to mention he was doing so to Terezi.

* * *

How wasn’t this a disaster? How was Dave ‘Stick My Foot In My Mouth’ Strider managing to get on with Terezi so fucking well? They were well into their second round of UNO (Terezi always insisted on following the rules, so of course, they had to play UNO with points and multiple rounds), and it almost felt like Terezi and _Dave_ were the long established friends. Karkat had never considered how well Terezi’s love for cringey 90’s kid ephemera would mesh with Dave’s professed ironic love for objectively terrible things and was paying for his lack of foresight.

“You’ll have to show me these comics of yours,” Terezi said over her four remaining cards. 

“Of course. I never thought to add descriptions, but you’ve opened my mind to the possibilities of reaching new fans.” Dave sounded completely sincere. “I’ll shoot you the link once I get that all up and running.” Then he finally, finally stuck his foot in his mouth. “Do you see at all?”

Terezi hmmed, her smile flagging slightly. “I can see some colors,” she said after a moment. “Red smells the most delicious.”

“Red’s delicious, huh?” Dave asked without missing a beat. “I could see that catching on.”

“I couldn’t,” she returned, testing the waters.

Dave laughed. “I guess I really walked right into that one. Just walking along and then, bam!, hit the wall. I bet you wouldn’t know what that’s like—you feel those walls coming at least two feet away thanks to that cane. Showing those walls who’s boss.”

And Terezi’s smile was back to its usual brightness. “Damn straight, I do.” She reached down to feel the label on the top card in the discard pile before making a selection from her own hand and laying it down. “Draw four cards, Karkat. And the new color is red.”

Karkat blinked, reminded that he was actually here to play UNO and not to watch the wonder twins play verbal tennis. “Goddamn it, Terezi.” He had fifteen cards in his hand already. “How do you do this every fucking time?” At least he had some red cards, and he added one more to his hand along with three more greens. He had the whole fucking rainbow to choose from. 

“What can I say?” Terezi grinned. “I’m lucky.”

* * *

That had gone so much better than Dave had expected. He certainly hadn’t expected to end the evening with another friend and a new chumhandle to add to his list. It had been a lot of fun, chilling with Terezi and Karkat—it felt like a long time since he’d had a chance to just chill with people. Seeing how Karkat acted around one of his friends had settled Dave a little, too. Confirmation that Dave had indeed been seeing the real Karkat, and that Karkat wasn’t still putting an act on for him.

True, Karkat could have been putting an act on for Terezi, too, but T-girl was way too sharp to be fooled like that. If Karkat hadn’t been acting like himself, she would have said something, Dave was sure of it. 

Dave had a couple of hours before he had to get going, so he decided to dedicate some time to updating his Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff website. He had a lot of work to do to get his comics Terezi ready, but it’d be worth it to be able to share them with her. Maybe he’d shoot Karkat a link, too. He hadn’t seemed that enthused about them when Dave had described them to Terezi, but any guy who could pick out the perfect GRACE horse? statute would no doubt appreciate the sophisticated humor SBHJ.

* * *

To Karkat’s surprise, Terezi was silent for the entire ride back to her apartment. He didn’t know what he expected her to say: “I told you so” didn’t make sense, but it would fit with how smug she’d looked when they’d left Dave’s apartment. He waited until after they’d exited the taxi near her apartment building before he asked why she was being so quiet.

“I was just thinking,” she said with airy superiority. She stopped in her tracks, then turned around to face him. “I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

Karkat took a step back and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I’m listening. What is it?”

She stepped closer and poked him in the shoulder before redirecting her poke to his chest. “Stop trying to get Dave to dump you.”

“What?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re deaf _and_ stupid, Karkat,” Terezi complained. “I said, stop trying to get Dave to dump you. It isn’t going to work, and you’re only going to make both of you miserable.”

“Is that right?” Karkat didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “That’s pretty rich coming from you.” Terezi’s expertise in the area of romance could be inscribed on the head of a pin. In braille. “I seem to recall being the one to tell _you_ that dating Vriska was a mistake.”

She waved off Karkat’s point as though it were utterly unimportant. “Don’t change the subject.” Leaning on her cane, she rested her head on her arms and pointed her face upwards. “This is about you and your poor life choices right now. We can discuss mine some other time.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” 

“Liar.”

Karkat couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Just drop it. There’s nothing to talk about. I need Dave to dump me, and you need to go home before you make a mugger cry.”

Terezi held her position a moment longer before shrugging and standing up. “Suit yourself. You’ll see that I’m right eventually. Like always.” Then she turned around and started walking again. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she called out over her shoulder.

Karkat leveled Terezi with a glare she couldn’t appreciate. “Fuck you, Terezi.”

* * *

> *** Gets along well with others. Is a cut-throat UNO player. Writes and “illustrates” practically illegible comics that are ~~hilarious~~ ~~funny~~ ~~amusing~~ slightly amusing. ~~Terezi doesn’t know what she’s talking about.~~**

* * *

> The sixth step is **the friend**. We all have that one friend who, while a blast, is too much to handle for those who do not have a shared history. They may be that friend who likes to party just a little too hard, perhaps they have obsessions which they pursue ad nauseam, or they could just be obnoxious in some other way that is charming to you but not to other people. Assuming you have chosen a short-term partner who did not grow up with you (and what kind of masochist would you have to be to choose a childhood friend for this exerciser?), you can enlist their help. Tell them to be themselves, and you can easily outsource some of the work needed to convince your short term-partner to leave you. ~~Under no circumstances should you let slip why you are having them meet your short term partner. Your friend is smarter than you and will make sure to let you know exactly how big an idiot you’re being.~~ This step runs the risk of your friend getting on with your short-term partner if you have made the mistake of picking one that is inexplicably likable. Proceed with caution.

* * *

##  Day 7:

“I just don’t understand, Kar,” Eridan said, tangling his hands in the scarf he was wearing. The cup of coffee he’d asked for remained untouched on the kitchen table. “What does Fef _see_ in that loser?”

Karkat didn’t hold back a sigh. This was the fifth time they’d looped around to this part of the conversation in the hour since Eridan had dropped in uninvited to his apartment to bitch about Sollux and Feferi. Again. He took a sip of his own coffee as he considered what to say. “He’s your friend, too, asshole.”

“Kaaaaar,” Eridan whined, “that’s not the point.”

The sound of new messages on his phone allowed Karkat to put this excruciating exercise of banging his head against a brick wall on hold. It was all he could do not to cheer. “I need to get this.”

Eridan pouted but didn’t argue. 

TG: so karbar i was thinking

Karkat felt his eyebrow twitch. 

TG: do you want to go somewhere tonight  
TG: i promise no bowling or karaoke  
TG: unless you want to do that  
TG: im up for anything

Karkat had been about to tell Dave that he couldn’t see him today (Eridan tended to need several hours of his time, and the absolute last thing Karkat would want to do once he’d left was talk to anyone else) when he realized the opportunity he’d just been given. 

He could introduce Dave to Eridan. Yes, Terezi had been a bust, but he really should have seen that coming. The problem with Terezi was, despite having a larger than life personality, she was charming as fuck. However, Edrian was possessed of both the arrogance of a large personality and a certain anti-charm that drew people in even as he repulsed them. Karkat could barely stand him, so he doubted Dave would fare much better. 

CG: I HAVE A FRIEND OVER MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW. YOU CAN COME OVER AND MEET HIM IF YOU WANT.

The response was nearly instantaneous. 

TG: bomb im totally going to do that  
TG: ill be there in a flash gettin my dash on  
TG: aint gonna be fashion-  
TG: ibly late for this date

He felt his mouth curving into an involuntary smile. 

CG: STOP RAPPING AND GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE.   
TG: will do

“What was that about?” Eridan asked once Karkat had slipped his phone away. 

Oh, right. “That was Dave, the guy I’m, uh, dating.”

Eridan immediately perked up. “You’ve got another guy on the hook, Kar? Thought you were swearin’ romance off.”

“I never said that,” Karkat denied, feeling his face go hot. Before Eridan could remind him that he _had_ said something to that effect, he continued, “I was fucking drunk—you should know better than to take anything I say under the influence seriously.”

“How long you’ve been datin’?”

“A week.”

Eridan leaned forward in his chair. “What’s he like?”

_Comforting, funny, hot._ Karkat shook his head. “He’s an idiot.”

“You say that about everyone.” Then he tilted his head. “You gonna let anyone _meet_ him this time?”

Karkat couldn’t help the grin that split his face. From the sudden look of apprehension on Eridan’s own face, it must have been a good match for his thoughts. “About that.”

* * *

Dave had made certain to wear clean clothes and brush his teeth before venturing to Karkat’s apartment. Things had gone pretty well with Terezi, and he wanted to make a good impression on this new potential friend, too, if he could. It must mean _something_ that Karkat was already introducing him to so many of his friends, right? Dave only had a tenuous grasp on exactly where on the potential boyfriend echeladder meeting your potential boyfriend’s friends was, but it felt like it had to be on the higher side.

However, after meeting Eridan… Dave didn’t like making snap judgements, but the guy was a total douchebag. The strangest part was that Karkat seemed to agree, which made Dave wonder why he was friends with Eridan at all.Of course, maybe there was more to him than there appeared. Hidden depths and all that. 

Eridan hadn’t wanted to play a game, so the three of them were seated at Karkat’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. At least, Karkat and Dave were drinking coffee; Eridan seemed content to just gesticulate over his. 

“Fef is too beautiful to be tyin’ herself down to that, that scrawny loser,” he was saying. Again. Dave had only been at Karkat’s apartment for the last forty minutes or so, and this was the second time he was hearing this. This Fef girl had _definitely_ dodged a bullet with this asshole. He glanced over at Karkat, who only sighed as Eridan continued speaking. “She deserves to be with someone as beautiful as she is. Like me!”

“It’s exactly that attitude why she _isn’t_ with you,” Karkat said, sounding about as done as he looked. “If you had half a brain in your goddamn skull, you would have moved the fuck on ages ago.” He shook his head. “Keep this up, and you’ll be lucky if you even get to stay her _friend_ , never mind anything else.”

“You don’t understand,” Eridan wailed, the picture of overdone misery. “We’re _meant_ to be together! He stole her right out from under me!”

Dave had been very good up to this point keeping himself out of this mess of a ‘conversation’, but he was powerless against such a good opening. “Phrasing, dude.”

Eridan whirled on him. “This doesn’t concern you, Strider.”

“Don’t snap at Dave,” Karkat said before Dave could retort, his voice quiet but hard. “Eridan, I have told you over and over again, that you need to stop acting like Feferi is a _thing_ you and Sollux are fighting over.” Dave was surprised he wasn’t yelling yet, though the darkening of his features told him shouting was in the near future. “She is a person; she is one of your fucking friends—God knows why!—and you need to start acting like it. You can start by respecting her choices instead of being such a shitheel about them.”

“What I _need_ ,” Eridan sneered, glaring at Karkat over his glasses, “is for Sol to keep his grubby claws off my girl.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t even know why I bother talkin’ to you about this, Kar. You don’t understand what it’s like to _really_ love someone.”

Clearly, this accusation caught Karkat off guard. “What?” He set down his coffee cup with deliberate slowness. “What did you just say to me?”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to really love someone,” Eridan repeated as though he thought Karkat actually hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“And why would you say that?” Karkat’s tone could have cut through one of Dave’s shitty katanas. 

Eridan didn’t seem to notice. “It’s obvious,” he said blandly. “You’ve dated so many people, but you don’t _do_ anythin’ when they leave you. You don’t try to get them back; you don’t do anythin’ to keep them with you. So, you must not have really loved any of them.” He continued, heedless of the growing hurt on Karkat’s face, “Not like me and Fef at all. I’ll never give her up,” he put his hand on his chest dramatically, splaying his fingers out, “because I _love_ her, Kar. You just don’t get it. Maybe you never will.” He gestured dismissively at Dave. “You think _he’s_ the one for you? Are you actually gonna do anythin’ when _he_ leaves you? Of course not, because you don’t know what love is.”

Karkat was silent for several seconds. Then he exploded. “FUCK YOU, ERIDAN,” he roared jumping to his feet and knocking his coffee cup over. “I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU THINK YOU HAVE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST AUTHORITY TO QUESTION TO VERACITY OF MY FEELINGS AND CAST ASPERSIONS ON MY RELATIONSHIPS WHEN YOU ARE THE FUCKING QUINTISENTIAL ‘NICE GUY’, I.E., A SELF-ENTITLED FUCK-WIT WHO THINKS WOMEN ARE THINGS THAT OWE HIM A SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE HE LISTENED TO HER BITCH ABOUT HER LIFE A FEW TIMES, BUT I’M DONE. YOU CAN FUCK OFF.” He stalked over to Eridan, who seemed stunned by this turn of events, and grabbed his arm, pulling him bodily out of his chair. “AND BY FUCK OFF, I MEAN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE AND OUT OF MY APARTMENT, YOU SELF-IMPORTANT DOUCHE CANOE.”

Eridan offered very little resistance as Karkat pushed him towards the apartment door. Once he was outside, he smiled weakly. “So, I can text you later?”

Karkat slammed the door without answering before turning to lean his back against it. He was trembling, shaking with adrenaline, and he brought his hands up to cover his face. Dave had been there before—the situations leading up to it had been different, but he’d been there before.

Dave approached slowly. Although he’d seen Karkat blow up at the bowling alley, that really hadn’t been anything like _this_. That had been watching a guy attempting a stunt on his skateboard, falling off, and immediately jumping up to scream at his skateboard; this had been a guy attempting a stunt on his skateboard and being hit by a car which had swerved onto the sidewalk. After screaming at the guy at the bowling alley, he’d seemed embarrassed, but he hadn’t looked like he was moments away from a breakdown afterwards. “Are you okay, Karkat?”

He jerked his head up. No tears, but he looked shaken. “No.” He hesitated, then walked up close to Dave, and Dave took it as a permission to deploy a hug. It felt like the right choice as Karkat slumped against him. “I don’t know why he got to me,” he admitted, his voice sounding rough and subdued. “I’ve known Eridan for years. I’m _used_ to his bullshit.”

Holding Karkat close, the question Dave had been keeping to himself since hearing Eridan speak for more than a minute finally burst free: “Why do you even hang out with that asshole?”

“He’s… He’s like a hate-friend.” 

That was a new one. “He’s a what?”

“A hate-friend,” Karkat stated as though Dave should already realize what he was talking about. “You know, that person in your friend group that everyone actually hates but still keeps around for some unfathomable reason.” He pushed his head into Dave’s shoulder. “Pity maybe? Or perhaps we’re all just used to him after being forced to bathe in the aura of toxicity he exudes for so long? I don’t know. None of us can stand him for more than a few hours. I’m usually the one who can stand him the most.”

That sounded pretty awful. It didn’t seem fair to anyone involved, but that much Dave was sure wasn’t his place to say. “Can’t relate,” he said instead. “I only hang out with people who are cool. Like you.”

As he’d expected, he heard Karkat scoff. “I am not nor have I ever been cool in my entire fucking life.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Kitkat.” ‘Karbar’ was good, but Dave was determined to try out all the nicknames and see which ones sounded best under field conditions. “You’re ice-cold. You’re motherfucking liquid nitrogen up in here.” He jostled Karkat a little. “Better watch out, wouldn’t want any of this coolness to splash onto anyone: frozen on contact.”

Karkat laughed and pushed away from Dave, smiling widely. “Shut the fuck up, Dave. That’s not how liquid nitrogen works, and I’m not a fucking candy bar!”

Dave grinned at the opening he’d just been given. “I don’t know: you still look like a snack to me.”

The combination of indignation and flustered embarrassment on Karkat’s face made Dave want to kiss him, but he was able to stop himself. The first kiss he’d had with Karkat had been super quick, and he’d realized afterwards that Karkat hadn’t even kissed him back, leaving him to wonder if Karkat had just been too surprised or if he hadn’t been down for it at all. So, he’d decided that the next time they kissed, Karkat should be the one to make the first move. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to and imagining what it would be like. “You’re—You’re impossible!”

“That’s me: impossible.” Dave wondered if he could get Karkat to laugh again. “I’m so impossible, I’m motherfucking miraculous.” 

Karkat shook his head, still smiling. “Don’t talk to me about miracles. I’ve heard enough about miracles to last me a fucking lifetime.” Then the smile faded, and he looked even more tired than he usually did. “I think I need to be alone now.”

Never let it be said that Dave Strider couldn’t take a hint. Especially a hint that wasn’t actually a hint but more like a clear direction. He took some comfort in the fact he wasn’t being literally thrown out of the apartment like Eridan had been. “Sure, Kitbit. Text me when you’re up to hang again.”

The latest nickname got a raised eyebrow but no other response. “I will.” A faint smile. “See you later, Dave.”

* * *

> *** ~~Gives nice hugs.~~ Hugger. ~~Considerate.~~ Can follow simple directions. ~~Eridan is a fucking asshole, why do I hang out with him?~~**

Karkat finished crossing out the note before tossing his pen down on the table. Well, that had backfired spectacularly, hadn’t it? He bowed his head, grabbing two fist fulls of hair. What was he supposed to do now? Being himself hadn’t worked. Being clingy hadn’t worked. Outsourcing hadn’t worked either! What was left to try?

A notification on his phone startled him. For a moment, he thought it would be Dave. He pretended he didn’t feel disappointed when the message turned out to be from Kanaya.

GA: Allow Me To Congratulate You On Your New Relationship  
GA: I Am Pleased To Hear That You Will Have Someone To Bring With You To My Upcoming Nuptials   
CG: WHO TOLD YOU?  
CG: ALSO DON’T GET YOUR HOPES UP. I STILL HAVE SEVEN MORE DAYS TO FUCK THIS UP LIKE I ALWAYS DO.   
GA: Terezi Informed Me Of The News Today She Seemed Confident That You And Dave Would Be Able To Work Out Whatever Issues You May Have  
GA: Dave Is Quite Charming In His Own Way So I Am Not Surprised You Are Getting Along So Well With Him   
CG: FIRST OF ALL, TEREZI NEEDS TO KEEP HER GOSSIP SQUAWKER SHUT AND MIND HER OWN FUCKING BUSINESS.   
CG: SECOND, DAVE IS ONLY “CHARMING” IF YOU CONSIDER SUFFERING SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT FROM ALL THE IDIOCY THAT SPRINGS HALF-FORMED FROM HIS MOUTH THE SAME AS “BEING CHARMED”.  
CG: AND THIRD, AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, DO *NOT* GET YOUR HOPES UP. I DON’T WANT YOU TO BE UPSET AT YOUR OWN WEDDING BECAUSE I’M TOO INCOMPETANT TO MESH WITH ANOTHER MEMBER OF OUR SPECIES IN A ROMANTIC WAY. IF YOU ARE, THAT WILL BE ON YOU, BECAUSE, AS I HOPE I HAVE MADE CLEAR, I *WILL* FUCK THIS UP. I AM FUNDAMENTALLY UNLOVABLE.    
GA: You Are The Only One Who Thinks You Are Unlovable   
GA: You Are In Fact Quite Lovable I Will Go So Far As To Say That You Are Adorable As Well   
GA: You Are Also My Dear Friend And I Will Not Tolerate You Saying Such Terrible Things About Yourself In My Presence   
CG: SORRY.   
GA: I Must Go But Promise Me You Will Give Yourself And Dave A Chance Before You Decide Your Relationship Is Doomed To Failure   
CG: …   
CG: I PROMISE.

Karkat never liked lying to Kanaya, but he wasn’t even going to attempt to explain the truth of the matter to her—not after what happened with Terezi. As for Terezi, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised she’d dragged Kanaya into this: Terezi had never played fair. He just wondered how much Terezi had told Kanaya about Dave for her to be so certain she knew what he was like. Filing the thought away as unimportant, he opened up his notepad and got to work.

> The seventh step is **the hate-friend**. We all have a hate-friend, the one who is only tolerated in your friend group because you have all had the misfortune of growing up with them. They may be the kind that can whine at the drop of a hat and make everything about them. The absolute stick in the mud who can bring down the atmosphere of a room just by their very presence. Maybe they have even worse romantic luck than yourself and come to you all the time for advice that they never follow because they are an absolute, grade A moron. Once you have determined the identity of the hate-friend in your particular friend group, arrange for them and your short-term partner to meet. Let the sparks fly and see what catches on fire. Unfortunately, this plan hinges on your short-term partner disliking the hate-friend more than you do. In the event that you are reminded how much you actually loathe this friend to the point that you are the one who loses your temper and forces them out the door, you will be left to commiserate with your short-term partner about your poor life choices. This should be avoided as much as possible.


	6. Where It Hurts

## Day: 8 

Karkat arrived at Dave’s apartment at around 3:00 in the afternoon. If he’d timed this right, and he was fairly certain he had from what he’d been able to glean from Dave’s ramblings, this was around the time Dave generally got up on nights he had to work. Even though he’d come here for the express purpose of being reprehensibly rude, his fist still hesitated before making solid contact with the metal door. 

It took about a minute of knocking before the door finally opened. 

Dave had clearly not been expecting company. He stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of black pajama pants and a stained white shirt, slowly rubbing sleep out of his eyes. For once, his ever present shades were absent, allowing Karkat to see Dave’s eyes clearly for the first time. They were a rather striking shade of red. Comparing them to rubies was cliche, but Karkat didn’t mind a particularly fitting one from time to time. So enamoured with the novel sight, he was startled when Dave finally spoke. 

“Karkat?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Right. “I wanted to see you,” Karkat said simply as though he _weren’t_ currently crushing proper social etiquette underfoot like a spent cigarette he wasn’t planning to pick up afterwards. “Is it a crime to want to see my boyfriend?”

Inexplicably, Dave’s face lit up. “No, of course not. You can stop by anytime, just,” he covered a yawn with his hand, “next time you gotta give me a heads up. I was about to take a shower. You could have been left standing here, banging on the door like the big bad wolf trying to force his way into a brick pig house or whatever. I’d hate to have left you hanging.”

As Karkat was ushered inside, he felt utterly lost. He was certain if he’d had someone come to his apartment right around when he woke up without calling ahead for no other reason than to shoot the shit, he’d be fucking pissed. But not Dave. Nope. Instead of reading him the riot act (as he’d deserved) Dave had just invited him in and had given him free range of the apartment while he showered. 

Why did Dave have to be so nice? As though this whole thing weren’t wrenching enough. He told himself that he was just doing what needed to be done: it wasn’t his fault that Dave was stupid enough for Karkat to need to go to these lengths. The thought didn’t help much—he already felt like scum, and he’d barely done anything yet! Still, he was committed to this. There had to be something that would make Dave mad enough to break up with him. Karkat had a few more ideas up his sleeves, and a big gun to whip out if he really needed it, but he hoped that he wouldn’t have to go so far as that.

He became aware that the only sound in the apartment was the water from the shower. Right. Dave was in the shower. Showering. Karkat had noticed the light dusting of freckles on Dave’s cheeks, and he wondered if there were more on display now. He pictured water dripping down long, gangly limbs as Dave ran his fingers through his hair under the stream. He ran his fingers through his own hair when he realized what he was doing. Fuck. No. No. No. He did not need to make this harder—make this more _difficult_ for himself! Flushing, he picked up the remote and turned on the TV, resolved to put the whole thing out of his mind.

He was not one hundred percent successful. 

* * *

Dave practically floated to the shower. Boyfriend. Karkat had just called him his boyfriend. He’d been privately thinking of Karkat as his boyfriend, but neither of them had said anything yet, and now, out of nowhere, Karkat had said it first. While it’d be a lie to say that he was totally stoked that the guy had invited himself to his apartment without hitting him up first, Dave couldn’t deny feeling glad, too. It was nice that Karkat had wanted to see him for some one on one time. 

At least, he hoped that’s what this was. Meeting Karkat’s friends had been interesting (Terezi had been a blast; Eridan had been… something), but he’d been jonesing for the private Karkat experience. Maybe he’d get to kiss him again. That was something to look forward to. 

When he left the bathroom, wrapped securely in one towel and drying off his hair with another, he saw Karkat scowling at the tv as though it had personally offended him. He quickly made his way to his bedroom before he was noticed so he could get dressed. He spent maybe too long deciding what to wear. Which was pretty stupid since he was going to throw a hoodie over whatever he picked, and it wasn’t like Karkat seemed to care much about clothes anyway.

Dave stepped out into the living room and saw nothing had changed on the Karkat front except that he was scowling slightly less. He was watching some kind of cooking contest show, the one with the British people baking, with rapt attention. 

Which made the already simple task of getting close without him noticing trivial. 

* * *

Karkat had managed to get absorbed enough in the drama of the random episode of The Great British Bakeoff he’d stumbled onto that he hadn’t noticed Dave until the man had flopped down next to him. “Jesus, Dave!” he exclaimed in the face of Dave’s laughter. “One of these days, you really will give me a heart attack. Is that what you want?”

Dave leaned against Karkat’s shoulder, his laughter subsiding. “No way you’re that fragile, dude. Don’t forget: I saw you totally blow your stack at that guy at the bowling alley—if your heart didn’t pop then, I don’t think I’m going to be the one to do it.” He was still grinning, and Karkat forgot himself long enough to wish he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “Did you want to hang for a while? I’ve got a few hours before I gotta go to work.”

That sounded wonderful, but it wasn’t why he was here. Karkat steeled himself. “I wanted you to take me to Le Coucou tonight.” From his research, it was the most expensive French restaurant around. The kind of place that would never let someone who dressed like either him or Dave walk through their doors. 

The name clearly meant nothing to Dave, which made perfect sense in retrospect. “Sounds expensive. Are you buying or me?”

“You.”

Dave tilted his head. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, his tone bland. “That’s already been decided then, has it? Went through the committee and unanimously agreed upon? I think I need to write a letter to my congressman and tell him I need more representation.” He leaned back into the futon. “Well, like I said, I have work tonight. Can I give you a rain check on that?”

He wasn’t saying no? Why the fuck wasn’t he just saying no! Karkat shook his head. “Okay,” he sighed in a way which indicated that it really wasn’t. “That’s too bad. I was hoping we could go to the park later for the carriage ride. I’ve always wanted to do that, and I thought maybe you and I could take that ride tonight. But if you’ve got more important things to do, I guess we can’t.” It was hard not to feel like he wasn’t laying this on too thick when he was already feeling like such a jackass.

“Oh, that does sound pretty baller.” Dave was pursing his lips. “I could call into work if you’re dead set on it happening tonight.”

The one thing Karkat had promised himself was that he wasn’t going to actually take advantage of Dave. He already felt bad enough about himself for going through with this in the first place without adding on the guilt of making the guy spend money he probably couldn’t afford on things Karkat didn’t need. Or even necessarily want. He certainly didn’t want to get him fired! “No,” he said, perhaps a little too forcefully if the way Dave frowned was any indication. “I mean, no, you don’t have to skip work for me.” He had to refuse but also stay in character, right? “We can, we can, uh, rain check it, _if_ you get me a present.”

There was no mistaking the relief in Dave’s answering smile. “Cool. They _hate_ it when I call in on short notice.” He slung an arm around Karkat’s shoulder. “A present, huh? Yeah, sounds good—I’ve been thinking I need up my game anyway, since you’ve got me beat in that department. I just needed the opportunity to prove myself, and damn if that opportunity hasn’t just landed in my lap. You got something particular in mind? Or do you want to be surprised?”

Karkat leaned against Dave’s chest and hated himself just a little more for accepting this affection considering what was to come. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to go to phase three, but here he was. “I have a few ideas.”

* * *

The mall Karkat had insisted on was one of those indoor/outdoor collection of little shops rather than a place filled with recognizable chains. It was fun enough to browse around (even if he’d never been nearly interested enough in, for example, soap to go into a store dedicated exclusively to the stuff), but there was something up with Karkat. 

The guy was so stiff, and he wasn’t quite acting like himself. Granted, Dave had only known him for a little over a week, but he felt like he could recognize the real Karkat when he saw him, and he wasn’t seeing him except in blips: a small smile there, a lone snarky comment here. When Dave would throw an arm around his shoulder, Karkat would lean against him for a moment before pulling away—a lot of mixed signals. 

Which would be weird enough if it weren’t for the other thing. Karkat had asked him to come here to get him a present, but every time he found something he wanted, he’d immediately change his mind the moment Dave agreed to buy it for him. It was bizarre and starting to become irritating. Hanging with Karkat to get him a present was what he’d signed on for: being jerked around by a Karkat who only intermittently acted like himself wasn’t.

Currently, they were in some kind of specialty shop dedicated to vegan makeup, though he couldn’t imagine why. Karkat didn’t wear makeup as far as Dave could tell. “I don’t get it,” he said as they walked by their wares. “Who the fuck eats makeup?”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Vegan isn’t just about what you eat, dumbfuck. It’s about not using animals or animal products at all.” Either seeing Dave’s confusion or assuming he still didn’t get it, he continued, “You know where the color red in Skittles comes from?”

Dave knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, but he was glad Karkat was talking normally again. “You mean that’s not the color they are when they’re freshly milked from the rainbow by leprechauns?” he asked innocently. “Are they actually white or something before being dumped into one of the 40 red lakes? Or do they have to go through all the lakes? I’ve never been clear on that.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know where to start.” He scowled then shook his head. “Beetles. The red comes from beetle shells—for your Skittles and for red makeup. So vegan makeup uses other things instead. That _aren’t_ made from animals. Understand?”

Not as bad as he’d been expecting, honestly. “Got it.” He glanced around. “Is there something here you want? I mean, you’re your own man and can glam your heart out, but that doesn’t seem like your style.”

“How astute of you.” Then he reached down and picked up a tiny, white jar of something that shimmered underneath the gold letters. “How about this?”

“What is it?” Dave took the jar from him to squint at the label. “Glow Philtre Refining Mask for Illuminating and Glow.” There was a tag on the other side. A hundred dollars for maybe two ounces worth of lotion? Well, Dave had seen his sister spend more for less when it came to this kind of thing. A lot more than he’d expected to spend, but it wouldn’t hurt that much. “Sure. Put it on my tab.”

Before he’d even finished speaking, Karkat had snatched the jar out of his hand and set it back onto the shelf it had come from. “No. No, you’re not buying this either.” He was scowling again. “Fuck, let’s get out of here.”

Dave followed him, feeling both his confusion and irritation grow. 

* * *

As their trip through the mall continued, Karkat had tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that it couldn’t take much longer. It couldn’t. All he needed to do was keep up this unrepentant brat act and wait for Dave to balk at one of his demands. That was all he had to do.

Except Dave wasn’t balking. He just wouldn’t.

Everything Karkat had pointed at had gotten the same cool nod of approval. If anything did seem to be pissing Dave off it was Karkat’s “indecisiveness.” Maybe that would be enough eventually, but it wasn’t working fast enough. This needed to end before Karkat crawled out of his skin. 

Which meant it was finally time for the big gun.

He had done his research. He’d looked for just the thing that would be a league too far. Something he’d have to be a real asshole to actually expect to get, and something Dave wouldn’t be able to afford. Books were generally not too expensive, but this one… This one was special. 

In the display case rested a first edition copy of “Bridget Jones’s Diary” signed by its author, Helen Fielding. It was, naturally, in pristine condition. The white dust jacket gleamed under the store’s bright lighting, and the eyes and mouth on the cover looked out with shock. A shock sure to be mirrored by Dave once he saw the price tag. “This is what I want,” he said, pointing at the book. “It’s the book of one of my favorite movies.” 

Dave glanced at the book, then at the tag, then took a closer look at the tag. “You gotta be kidding me, man.” He looked from the tag to Karkat. “You really expect me to buy you this?”

“I’m sorry, Dave,” Karkat said in a way which even the dimmest should be able to tell wasn’t a sincere apology. “I thought you wanted to get me a present.”

Dave’s mouth was a flat, unhappy line. “I do. All I’m saying is $1,000 is a lot fucking steep for a goddamn book. I was thinking something more like, I don’t know, a book that doesn’t cost $1,000 that you could actually read without wearing gloves?”

The words he would say next were already decided: he just hated himself a little more for going through the act of saying them. “I guess I’m just not worth that much to you then.”

For the longest, most uncomfortable five seconds of Karkat’s life, Dave only stared at him. “Come on.” Almost too fast for him to see, Dave grabbed Karkat’s lower arm and started moving away from the display. 

Karkat didn’t resist the pull. He didn’t think he could unless he wanted to make a bigger scene than he already had—Dave was stronger than his lithe frame suggested. Was Dave taking him somewhere secluded so he could punch him? Karkat would have throttled himself an hour ago. He worried about the possible violence he could be allowing himself to be dragged into in a detached sort of way, more focused on what this meant. It appeared he’d finally found Dave’s limit. Whatever happened, there was no way this wasn’t going to end with Dave breaking up with him.

He was getting what he’d wanted all along. He was reaching his goal at last. 

Was the victory supposed to taste like ashes?

* * *

Once they were both in the bathroom, Dave crossed his arms. “Okay, spill. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird all afternoon.”

Something flashed across Karkat’s features. Something that tugged on Dave’s brain. “Nothing. I told you: I’m not on my best behavior anymore.” He stood up straighter. “If I’m too high maintenance for you, just say so.”

Before Dave could settle on something to say, what his brain had latched onto earlier registered. That something he’d seen before Karkat had started speaking again. Guilt. Karkat had looked guilty. 

And with that he finally realized what this was. Karkat was testing Dave’s boundaries, trying to see how much it would take to make Dave get angry. The irritation that had been building in the face of Karkat’s behavior sank into sadness like, like something that didn’t float dropped into the water. Fast. Damn. Whoever Karkat had dated before had really done a number on him. Dave felt qualified to make that assessment as someone who’d once had a number done on _him_. The circumstances had been different, of course, but he felt like he could recognize the signs. 

Of course, now that he understood what was happening, what should he do? An idea came to mind, and he decided to go for it. If he turned out to be wrong, the consequences would be somewhat painful, but even in that case, it would be worth it. Hadn’t he always wanted to try being someone’s sugar daddy? 

No. But the idea was definitely worth looking into should he ever personally make the kind of money required to uphold that kind of lifestyle. 

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. “If you really want to have to have that book, it’s yours,” he said, careful to keep his voice even. “It’ll throw my budget out of wack, but I can work it out. It’d take more than one overpriced book to make me homeless, and a thousand dollars is a small price to pay for a bonafide Karkat Vantas smile.”

Karkat frowned, his rhythm thrown off. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m as serious as a motherfucking a heart attack.” Seeing that he now had Karkat’s undivided attention, he continued, “I can swing that French place you were talking about, too. That bougie shit isn’t my thing, but if you want to go, I’d love to have the chance to show you off. And we can go on that ride in the park after. Sitting in a carriage with you sounds pretty bomb, actually.”

Karkat’s eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open.

Not giving him a chance to speak, Dave went on. “And if you want me to make that happen tonight, then that’s what I’ll do.” He tilted his head at what he hoped was a jaunty angle. “I can call into work—it’s short notice, and they’ll be pissy with me for a while, but I can live with that. You’re more important.”

“No,” Karkat said, tears shining brightly in his eyes. “No, I… I don’t—” He ran a hand down his face, his shoulders shaking. “What’s wrong with you?” The question was lacking the normal Karkat bluster, nearly plaintive. “Why are you being so fucking nice to me?”

Dave took the chance and took Karkat into his arms. He felt the other man trembling and tightened his hold. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” Karkat protested against Dave’s shoulder. “I’ve been nothing but awful to you.”

“I understand,” Dave said quietly, mindful he was now speaking almost directly into Karkat’s ear. “I don’t know who hurt you, but I understand. I know what it’s like to want to make sure you know what will make someone mad.”

Karkat drew a ragged breath. “You don’t—It’s not like—” A frustrated noise. “Why are you so stupid? You—you shouldn’t let me take advantage of you, you idiot.”

Dave put a hand on the back of Karkat’s head to stroke his hair. “It’s not taking advantage of me if I want to do things for you.” He could feel dampness on his shoulder, and he knew there was more he needed to say. “I don’t know why you think you’re so terrible, but you’re not. I can see you’re not. I’m glad I met you. I’m glad you took a chance on me.” 

Karkat made a noise full of frustration and pain as he continued to cry, his own arms finally coming up to wrap around Dave. Fingers dug into Dave’s hoodie to keep him in place. If the circumstances had been different, Dave would have enjoyed this position more—a part of him enjoyed the closeness anyway. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, his voice still rough with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to do any of that, that shit.”

“Not even the park thing with the horses?” Dave asked, relieved he’d been right. He’d meant what he’d said before, but he was just as happy not having to go through the headache of reorganizing his budget or of asking Rose’s—his mom for more guilt money if he didn’t have to. “Because that would be dope. Chilling in the back with you, trying to get my mack on while the driver pretends to ignore us. Probably be the highlight of his fucking evening, peeping at us over his shoulder while he’s supposed to drive. I bet they don’t pay him well either, so he’s got to get his kicks wherever he can find them. Practically charity on our part. We owe it to him, Karkat. We owe it to him.”

As he’d hoped, this got a laugh out of Karkat. It sounded choked. “Dave,” he said after a moment, his voice a muffled whine, “you’re making this so hard.” Dave felt Karkat shaking his head before he pushed back enough to look Dave in the face. “I’m sorry.” 

Just as Dave had been about to question the latest odd thing Karkat had said (or make a terrible joke over the word choice), he was being kissed. It felt rough and needy, almost desperate, and he answered it back with a kiss of his own. Making out in the men’s room at a mall after one of them had had a meltdown wasn’t quite how he’d pictured this going, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d been wanting to kiss Karkat like this for ages. 

Then it was over. Karkat had wriggled out of Dave’s grip, a look of pure anguish on his face. “I… I’m going home. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you later.” With more speed than Dave had thought him capable of, he booked it out the door.

Dave wanted to follow him, and he almost did. In the end though, he decided to give Karkat some space. He was sure he’d hear from him tomorrow. 

* * *

> *** ~~Why does he have to be so nice?~~ Moron. Idiot. Patsy. ~~I can’t do this anymore.~~ **
> 
> The eighth step is **the claim**. Behave as though whatever you want should be yours. Be manipulative. Demand things unfairly from your short-term partner: gifts, money, time. If your short-term partner balks, remind them that this is what dating you entails. You will be well on your way to losing that short-term partner as even those with very low self-esteem should have just enough to realize they do not want to be entangled with someone like you. Do not attempt this tactic with the kind of short-term partner who is a self-sacrificing idiot that puts just about anyone else's happiness (including yours) above their own. You will only feel like the worst kind of bottom dwelling river leech.

  
  


##  Day: 9

Being unpleasant hadn’t been enough. Being loud and rude hadn’t been enough. Being clingy hadn’t been enough. Being a greedy self-entitled asshole hadn’t been enough. Karkat had given it a lot of thought, and he’d come to the conclusion that there was only one way left to make Dave dump him. If Karkat wanted Dave to finally lose patience and do what he should have done to start with, Karkat was going to have to hurt him.

Not physically, god no. Even if the idea didn’t make Karkat feel like he was going to vomit, he didn’t think he could take Dave in a fight. No, the worst way to hurt Dave was by going after him emotionally. 

Dave had shared so much about himself with Karkat over the last week. So many things he was afraid of. So many things he’d lived through. So many tender spots waiting to be stabbed by the unscrupulous. 

It’d be easy. It’d be so easy. Karkat could even do it over text, so he wouldn’t have to see himself being so cruel in the reflection of Dave’s glasses, so he wouldn’t have to hear himself say such awful things. He could pour the loathing he so often felt for himself onto another target. Onto a man who’d done nothing but be kind to someone who hadn’t deserved that kindness. Onto a man whose greatest crime was being too stupid to realize how much dead weight Karkat really was. 

Karkat’s fingers hovered over the keys. 

> The ninth step is **the jugular**. As the title implies, this is a killing blow. Hit your short-term partner where it hurts. If you have reached the point in your relationship where this step is necessary, you have no doubt learned a lot about your short-term partner’s past and weak spots. You have been trusted with information that can wound your short-term partner where physical means never could. Use those sources of trauma against your short-term partner. Make it so they will never trust anyone with those tender spots again. Just be aware: if you do this instead of breaking up with your short-term partner yourself, you are scum and don’t deserve forgiveness.


	7. The Truth

##  Day 10:

All day, Dave had waited for some kind of contact from Karkat. A text message. Or a phone call. Or even Karkat inviting himself over to Dave’s apartment without warning like he had the day before. But nothing came. And there had been no response to any of the texts Dave had sent. He’d done his best not to worry. Maybe Karkat needed some space—even without that meltdown, they had been all up in each other’s business nearly every day for over a week now. 

Still, he spent a lot of time watching his phone and waiting, hoping he was making the right choice. 

The next day, he’d felt a rush of relief to see a notification for a message from Karkat. However, that warm relief turned to ice water the moment he read it.

CG: COME TO MY APARTMENT AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS MESSAGE. WE NEED TO TALK.

The four words no boyfriend ever wanted to hear. What had he done wrong? Or was he worrying for nothing? Maybe there was something Karkat wanted to talk about that _didn’t_ involve ending their relationship. 

TG: why whats going on?

To his surprise, the response was nearly instantaneous. 

CG: I NEED TO SEE YOU IN PERSON. PLEASE.

Dave felt his mouth go dry. 

TG: ok ill be there soon

* * *

The first thing Dave noticed when Karkat opened the door to his apartment was how awful he looked. His hair was always a little wild, but now it looked like he hadn’t brushed it. His clothes were rumpled, like he’d slept in them, but his brown eyes were bloodshot like he hadn’t slept at all.

“Did something happen? Are you okay?”

A sound that could have been a laugh but wasn’t. “I’m perfectly fine.” He stepped back and gestured wordlessly for Dave to come inside. 

“Bullshit you’re perfectly fine,” Dave said as Karkat shut the door behind him. “You look terrible, dude.”

Another not a laugh. “Just what every guy wants to hear, Dave.” 

Dave forced himself to grin. “What can I say? I’m a real catch.” To his shock, Karkat winced. “Okay, what’s going on? You said we needed to talk, so talk to me, man.”

Karkat closed his eyes for a couple seconds. “Why do you have to be so fucking nice?” he asked, his tone somewhere between fury and sorrow. “Why do you have to be such a great guy? If you’d been a total dirtbag, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But, no. You couldn’t make things easy, could you?”

This was honestly a first for Dave: he didn’t think he’d ever been cussed out for being too _good_ before. 

“It should have been easy,” he continued, now starting to pace in front of Dave. “It should have been so fucking easy.” His arms started to get into the action, and Dave could only watch them flail as incomprehensible things kept shooting out of Karkat’s mouth. “I _never_ thought it would take so much. I thought I knew exactly how this would play out. But you surprised me at every fucking turn.”

What the fuck was going on here? “What the fuck are you talking about?” Dave demanded, wishing he had the first clue what Karkat was so obliquely hinting at. “I don’t understand wha—”

“Of course you don’t!” Karkat interrupted harshly. “You don’t understand a goddamn thing. But that was fine—I knew you were an idiot the moment you asked _me_ for a date. But I needed you, and I took advantage of you, because I figured you’d be just like all the rest. And you _weren’t_.” 

He stopped pacing to face Dave, his eyes suddenly extra shiny. “Just being myself was always enough to get men to dump me before. But it wasn’t enough for you. You just kept putting up with my fucking bullshit like a goddamned saint, and I ran out of ideas. I don’t like hurting people, and I’ve never had to hurt anyone to get dumped, but I was getting desperate. I came so close so many times to sending you all kinds of awful texts, and I-I couldn’t do it. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone like that, but I definitely couldn’t do it to you. You didn’t deserve that, and you don’t deserve this either. I’m just… I’m so sorry, Dave.” 

“What?” There was so much here that didn’t make any sense at all, but he’d picked up on a theme. A certain motif in Karkat’s words. “You want me to dump you?”

Karkat’s scowl was undercut by the tears spilling over onto his cheeks. “No.” He roughly swiped at his face with his arm, the sweater merely serving to smear the wetness around. Then he took a deep breath, a diver about to plunge into the depths. “I _need_ you to dump me. For an article I’m writing. About how to lose a guy in ten days.” His smile was a sad, broken thing. “It’s day ten.”

Dave was absolutely flabbergasted. His entire flabber was entirely gasted. It took him a long time to summon up any words at all because he just could not believe this. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he said, hearing the desperation in his own voice but not caring. “This is some kind of shitty joke you’re playing on me. Any minute, you’re gonna be all ‘Haha Dave, a gullible loser is you.’”

Karkat only shook his head. Then he went over to the coffee table and picked up the same notepad Dave had seen him furiously writing in at the park. He opened it up to a particular page then handed it over to Dave. “I’m sorry.”

Reading the first two paragraphs (and their accompanying notes) was enough. So, this was what having your heart broken felt like. He wanted to say something, anything, to return to their status quo. He wished he had the power to rewind back to this morning before he’d heard any of this. Maybe back to before he’d met Karkat at all. But there wasn’t anything he could say, and there was nothing he could do. 

He gave the notepad back to Karkat, proud his hand wasn’t shaking. “Well, congratulations, I guess. You did it. I hope it’s one hell of an article.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the apartment. He thought he might have heard Karkat shout something behind him, but he wasn’t listening. 

Rose. He had to talk to Rose.

* * *

> The tenth step is **the truth**. This is a special step which only pertains to me, but I will continue to direct my remarks to you as though you (or anyone else) were ever actually going to use this article as a tutorial on how to ruin your relationship. Tell your short-term partner that your entire relationship is based on a lie: you only got close to them (and let them get close to you) so you could use the experience to write a magazine article. 

Karkat saw the bead of water splashing down, making the words they’d landed on feather and fray, but he let it remain. God, he was tired of crying. But he’d done the right thing. He didn’t deserve Dave, and Dave didn’t deserve him. And this stupid article was almost finished. 

> Furthermore, tell your partner that the reason you have treated them so shamefully is that you were trying your absolute hardest to get them to dump you first. Be thankful you at least did not go through with the ninth step, though, honestly, the tenth is not much kinder. Try not to think about how you most likely just threw away your best chance at a functional relationship for professional obligations. Try not to think about how much you already miss your short-term partner, and how much better off they are without you.

It was quiet in his apartment. It was generally quiet when he had no company, but the silence now was stifling. It made him think of things he didn’t want to think about. About how different it would be if Dave were still here, chatting away like he was being paid by the word. How much happier he’d feel. More tears dripped down to deface his notepad and smear his writing.

It was always difficult to tell what Dave was feeling (it _had_ been difficult) when he was wearing his glasses, but Karkat had seen the unhappy tightening off his mouth as he’d read the damning words Karkat had written. While Dave hadn’t turned the page, hadn’t read the full article, he’d clearly read enough to hurt him. Karkat had heard the faint tremor in his voice when he’d congratulated Karkat on his ‘success’. 

And then Karkat had let Dave walk out that door and out of his life, just like Eridan had said he would. He could have tried stopping him, blocked the door, grabbed his hand, something—anything—but just let him leave. But he hadn’t. He’d just stood there, frozen until he’d been alone in the living room, before going rushing out himself to watch Dave stalk down the hall. Yes, he’d shouted Dave’s name, but Dave hadn’t shown any sign of hearing him. 

Just as well. What had Karkat thought he’d been going to say? It wouldn’t have changed anything. Of course, he hadn’t been thinking at all: he just hadn’t wanted Dave to leave. But Dave had left, and he would never be coming back, and that was all Karkat’s doing. It was what he’d wanted; what he’d worked so hard to achieve. 

Terezi had been right: he really was the world’s biggest moron. He’d finally found a guy who actually liked him more when he was being himself, and he’d thrown him away. Broken his heart for nothing more important than his goddamn “professional obligations”. And what did he have to show for it? A throw-away fluff piece no one would remember longer than it took to finish reading.

> If you have followed the steps in this guide, you should be down one short-term partner. Congratulations on thoroughly destroying your romantic life. You have earned the just rewards of your labor and now may enjoy your time alone as you’d wanted. Maybe next time you can try to be less of a terrible person.

He was vaguely aware of typing up said fluff piece, but most of his thoughts were focused on trying not to think of Dave. The frustration he’d felt then feeling even more stupid and petty now in hindsight. He just really hadn’t appreciated how good he’d had it, and even his memories of the “good times” were tainted by knowing how he’d managed finally to ruin everything in the end. In that way, dating Dave had been exactly like all of his prior relationships.

His editor was going to hate this whole article—too informal, especially the final paragraph—, but Karkat absolutely did not care. The important thing was it was done. It could be his editor’s headache now, not his. He saved the document and attached it to an email for his editor. However, after typing the message, he found himself hesitating to hit send.

The article felt too personal to share. Like he’d ripped a page out of his own diary. A lot of his articles felt that way, but this was different. While he’d signed up for putting his various faults on display in print, Dave sure hadn’t. In the unlikely event Dave ever picked up the edition of Dubiously Cultured this article was tucked away in, he’d no doubt be able to recognize the unflattering and unfair caricature of himself wedged in there by Karkat’s words. 

Without wanting to, Karkat imagined what that would feel like, and he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that he wouldn’t be able to do this. After everything he’d done to Dave, everything he’d put him through, he couldn't do this to him, too: humiliate him for money. It would just be one last parting betrayal, and Karkat still couldn’t bring himself to hurt Dave this way.

It was kind of funny. This article had been so fucking important to get finished, and now he wasn’t even going to be sending the thing to his editor. His boss would just love to hear about how he’d written her an article he’d been paid to write, but no, he wasn’t ever going to give it to her. So, his final score after ruining his chances for happiness so he could write an article that now would never see the light of day was no article and no boyfriend. If he was _really_ lucky, maybe he’d have no job by the end of this, too! 

It was what he deserved.

Karkat didn’t know how long he sat there in front of his computer, alternately blowing his nose and sopping his tears, when he heard a knock at his door. Followed by another. A painful surge of hope went through him even though he knew that Dave would not be on the other side of that door when he opened it. 


	8. Another Truth

##  Day 10 Again

“What’s this about, Dave?” Rose asked, ushering Dave inside her apartment. It was mostly packed up already since she was going to be moving in with Kanaya after the wedding, but her large couch was still set up. Dave went over to it and sat down, sinking into the cushions. 

“I made a mistake, Rose.”

She took a seat next to him but said nothing, just patiently waiting. 

“Turns out the guy I was dating was just using me to write a magazine article. Can you fucking believe it?”

Rose hmmed in that way of hers which indicated she was listening but that she didn’t actually agree with anything you’d said. “He told you that?”

“Yeah.” Dave crossed his arms. “Said that he needed me to dump him so he could write his article.” The hollowness in his chest he’d been able to fill with anger yawned open again. “I feel so fucking used. Did he even ever really like me?”

Another hmm. “I couldn’t say. Did he seem upset at all when he told you the truth?”

That stopped Dave short but only for a moment. “A bit.” He could feel Rose’s eyes boring into him. “Okay, yeah, he was really upset. All waterworks and blaming me for being too nice or whatever.” He slouched further in his seat, trying to bury the concern for the man threatening to rise up. “Doesn’t change anything. He shouldn’t have started dating me just because he needed me for something.”

Rose looked at Dave as though he’d said something completely wack. Not an uncommon look for Dave to receive from her, but he didn’t think he deserved it this time. 

“What?” Dave demanded. 

She stared a moment longer. “Did you forget why _you_ were dating Karkat in the first place?”

Dave opened his mouth to ask her what she was talking about. Then he remembered. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Rose repeated. “I trust I don’t need to explain to you how foolish you’d have to be to be angry with Karkat for dating you under false pretenses when you were doing the same thing.” She smiled her smug smile. “You should go back and talk to him.”

So much of Dave wanted to do just that. But how could he? “It’s too late, Rose. It’s over. It’s so done, don’t even stick a fork in it. It needs to go straight into the garbage because it’s a lump of fucking charcoal.”

“That’s a shame.” Rose was still smiling. “It’s so unlike you to just give up like this.”

“You’re not going to use your psychology powers on me this time, Rose,” Dave said, resolutely turning his head away from her. “I’m not going back.”

A long, drawn out sigh which couldn’t possibly be more fake. “Oh dear, I guess you’ve finally grown immune to my completely real and totally not fake mental powers. I suppose that means you definitely _shouldn’t_ go back then.”

Dave felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Shit, Rose, doubling down on that reverse psychology? Tell me what you _really_ think I should do.”

“Straightforward communication? I fear I may be genuinely incapable of it, but I shall attempt this feat for you, my dear brother.” He heard her shifting a little on the couch. “Go talk to Karkat. I have a feeling neither one of you wants to end this relationship you have, despite its flimsy foundations. I can be certain you don’t.”

The only thing worse than smug Rose was when smug Rose was right. And she was right, but he’d already had his heart broken once today. He didn’t think he was up for breaking it again so soon. “It’s too late,” he said. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“He doesn’t?” She leaned against Dave’s shoulder. “Did he forbid you from coming back? Did he tell you to never darken his door again?”

“No.” 

“Then go see him.” Rose gave Dave a gentle shove. “Don’t stay here just to spite me, brother dearest.”

Dave laughed, his heart feeling just a little lighter despite himself. “You really think I should?”

She gave him a more forceful shove. “Go.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go. Don’t damage the goods.” He stood up. “Thanks, Rose.”

Rose looked up at him, smiling beatifically. “Anytime, Dave.”

He left Rose’s apartment like a shot. There was so much to prepare! 

  


It didn’t occur to Dave to wonder how Rose had known Karkat’s name.

  


Later, once he’d collected the necessary supplies (a box of chocolates, a bouquet of roses, and a tiny teddy bear MC), he returned to Karkat’s apartment. 

Somehow, Karkat looked even worse than he had earlier. His eyes were red-rimmed now, his face flushed, his cheeks wet, and the area under his nose was raw. He was sluggishly wiping away the tears with a scrunched up tissue as he pulled the door open enough to stand in the doorway. His shoulders were hunched, making him seem smaller than he really was. The hand not busy with the tissue clung onto the door-frame as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. He looked up at Dave, exhausted and shattered. 

Dave immediately regretted the time he’d wasted picking up the things in his arms. He thrust them all at Karkat, who somehow managed to react fast enough to catch them, hugging them to his chest. “I’m sorry I got so mad before,” he said quickly, seeing the surprise rapidly cycling through confusion and disbelief to suspicion. “I was only dating you because of a bet with my sister to start with so I’d have a date to take with me to her wedding, but I guess I forgot that was the reason, because you’re just so fun and interesting to hang out with.” 

The suspicion was gone now, but it’d been replaced with a sort of dull-eyed shock, and he wasn’t sure if that was better. Maybe he could wrap this up? “The truth is I was using you, too, so it’s mad hypocritical of me to be pissed about the article you’re writing when I was doing something similar. So, I forgive you for the article, and I hope you’ll forgive me, too, for being like the world’s biggest hypocrite. And also, just dating you because of a bet. That was wack of me. I’m sorry.” 

Karkat stared at Dave for a long moment, his mouth still slack, then he looked away to blink down at the gifts in his arms. “You got me roses and chocolate? And a fucking plushie?” His voice sounded soft and broken. “I don’t get it.”

“Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, Karkat stepped aside. Once Dave had closed the door behind him, Karkat walked to his kitchen and set his burdens down on the counter. Dave watched, mystified, as he got a cutting board and a knife out. 

“What are you doing?”

Karkat took the roses and started cutting off the bottoms of the stems. “If you put them in a vase without cutting the stems, they won’t be able to absorb any water, and they’ll die.” The words were almost business-like. While a welcome change from earlier, he still didn’t sound like himself yet.

“Oh.” Dave watched him complete the task and didn’t hazard to say anything else until the flowers were safely in a vase. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?” Karkat sat down at the table. “I didn’t catch most of what you said because you insisted on indiscriminately spraying me with word vomit at top speed like a drunken co-ed on the tilt-a-whirl at a county fair in the sticks. There was something about a bet and wedding?” He shook his head and took another tissue from the box next to him. “Sit down, Dave, and tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Dave sat down, remembering the last time he’d sat here, and he felt even more determined to finish this. He waited for Karkat to blow his nose. “First of all, I’m sorry for flying off the handle when you told me about your article.”

“That was flying off the handle?” Karkat sounded dubious. 

“Fuck yeah, it was.” Dave wondered how that could be in doubt. “I took an acrobatic flying pirouette right off the fucking thing, and I shouldn’t have because I was using you, too, at first.”

Karkat tilted his head, his still watery eyes narrowed. “This bet you mentioned.”

“Yeah.” Dave rubbed the back of his neck. “You see, my sister, she’s getting married in a few days, and she wanted me to bring a date with me? So my mom wouldn’t be all worried about my future prospects like she’s afraid I’m going to become whatever the male version of an old spinster lady is.” He grinned nervously in the face of Karkat’s baffled expression. “Long story short, I said I could get any guy I wanted, she pointed at you across the cafe, and I bet her I could get you to come with me to her wedding. Speaking of, are you free in a few days? I’d like you to be my plus one for Rose’s wedding.”

“Rose’s wedding,” Karkat repeated slowly, as though trying to work out a puzzle. Then he sat up ram-rod straight. “Is she marrying Kanaya? She’s that Rose? Rose fucking Lalonde?”

“You know her?” Dave asked, unnecessarily: anyone who referred to Rose like that _had_ to know her. 

“She’s my fucking boss.” Karkat grabbed his hair with both hands. “She’s the one who told me to write that goddamn article in the first place.”

“What?” Rose knew Karkat? Rose knew Karkat. She fucking knew him. “She’s the whole reason I went over to see you—I mean, you were a total snack, but you looked so pissed off, I wouldn’t have gone over there if she hadn’t goaded me into it.”

“You know what this means?” Karkat let go of his hair so he could bring his hands together in front of his mouth, thumbs to his chin and his fingers pointed upwards. “This was a setup. One of her little fucking mind games the whole time. She _knew_ I was going to try to get you to dump me.”

“And she knew I was going to be trying my hardest to win you over so you’d go to her wedding with _me_ ,” Dave finished in awe. Damn, Rose. 

“Exactly,” Karkat agreed. “That meddling, diabolical, flighty fucking broad.” He closed his eyes. “I could strangle her.”

If it weren’t for the fact that she was the whole reason he’d come back here, Dave would have agreed wholeheartedly. As it was, he was going to have a long talk with her later—she’d no doubt talk circles around him, but it was the principle of the thing! “She’s not all bad: I’d still be off being mad at you if she hadn’t reminded me of the whole bet thing.” At Karkat’s unimpressed look, he added, “Besides, that would ruin the wedding, and Kanaya’s terrifying when she’s angry.”

This got a laugh out of Karkat. “That’s extremely true.” He lowered his arms and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t believe this.”

Dave watched him for several long seconds, feeling a nervous flutter in his chest. “It’s not all bad, right?” When Karkat brought his head up to give Dave a disgusted glare, he continued, “I mean, I really did have fun dating you. And I’d like to, uh, I’d like to keep doing that? If you’re cool with it.”

Karkat sat up again, frowning. “Really?”

There was enough hope in that word for Dave to feel justified in his own. “Yeah. I want to be your boyfriend, above board, no weird strings attached. Just you and me against the world.” He flashed Karkat a smile. “I’d also like to rub you in Rose’s face, but that’d just be the gravy on the meatloaf.”

A grimace. “Don’t remind me of that shitty meatloaf I made you. The next one will be better.”

“The next one?” Dave grinned, reaching his hand out to Karkat across the table. “Does that mean we’re going to do this thing?”

Karkat looked at Dave’s hand then back up at Dave as he took his hand in his own. “Yeah, Dave.” His smile was small, but genuine. “We’re making this happen.”

Never in his life, had Dave felt this stoked to be holding anyone’s hand. “Dope.” Caught up in the moment, he stood and walked around the table to stop in front of Karkat. Still holding his hand, Dave pressed his lips to Karkat’s knuckles. He looked up and saw Karkat gaping at him. “I can think of a few other things I’d like to make happen,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively over the top of his glasses.

Karkat blinked a few more times before he smiled again, wider this time. “Is that right, Dave?” He got to his feet and immediately closed the space between them, his hand still in Dave’s, his other arm wrapping tightly around Dave’s middle. Dave could feel Karkat’s breath on his lips. “What did you have in mind?” 

* * *

What happened after that was something of a blur of kisses and removed clothing. Who had kissed whom first? That wasn’t important. This was relief and joy finding a physical outlet. Two people who’d thought they’d lost each other coming together again with no reason to hold back any longer.

* * *

Later, once they were Karkat’s bed enjoying the afterglow and he was nestled under Dave’s arm, Karkat said, “I still want to strangle Rose.”

Dave laughed, and Karkat relished being close enough to feel the noise and heat radiate out of him. “I’m sure you’re not the only one.” He was silent for a moment. “Rose is like aggressively passive aggressive. She probably had some fun imagining what shenanigans we were getting up to, but I’m sure she thought she was doing us a favor in the end.” His fingers traced idly down Karkat’s side. “She totally did, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.”

Karkat shivered at the contact. Why did Dave have to be so damn forgiving? Then again, that was one of the things he loved about him. “Still doesn’t give her the right to play mind games with us.” He sighed into Dave’s ministrations. “I would have met you at the wedding anyway, jackass—my friend’s getting married, too. Just let me be pissed at her for a while. I’ll get over it.”

Dave hmmed, then his fingers abruptly stopped moving. “Would getting back at her help, because I think I know how we can get back at her.”

“I think it would,” Karkat said slowly, warming up to the idea. “What did you have in mind?”

“All I’ve got to do is get in touch with Rose’s—with _my_ mom.” Dave’s voice was brimming with barely contained excitement. “I know for a fact she’s been fucking _dying_ to share all her baby Rose stories with Kanaya, but Rose has been shutting that business down like the Great Depression every time she gets started.” Karkat looked up to see the expression on Dave’s face: there was a spark of something devious in his grin. “But there’s nothing Rose can do to shut _me_ down. I am fucking depression proof.” His grin softened as he looked down at Karkat. “What do you say? Would that do it for you? Just give me the word, and I’ll pull up Mom Lalonde’s chumhandle and get all the hot goss.”

Karkat felt warm all over that Dave was willing to go to this much trouble just to make him happy. “Yeah, that sounds great.” In the meantime, he had another article to write. 


	9. Latter Days

##  Day 11:

> **“Manipulative Meddlers: When Maladaptive Misanthropes Make Life Miserable”**  
>  _Written by Karkat Vantas_
> 
> In your social life, have you ever felt as though your actions were influenced by some outside force for the sole purpose of making your life more difficult than it needs to be? If so, you may have been the victim of a meddler. This person may be a friend, a family member, a co-worker, or even your boss. What is a meddler? A meddler is someone who takes it upon themselves to manipulate you under the delusion that you are entirely helpless when it comes to bettering your own life. They do this as opposed to communicating clearly like normal people do out of a mistaken belief that you being kept ignorant will be more conducive to a positive outcome than one you had any hand in creating for yourself. After all, if you were competent, their “services” would hardly be necessary. 
> 
> Should you have the wherewithal to question them, they will insist that all of their efforts are dedicated solely to helping you. Presumably, they feel that they are just smarter than everyone in the room, and that this gives them the right to play mind games with you rather than offer you honest advice or suggestions. No doubt, they would claim that experience is the best teacher or that you would not have accepted their advice except under these false pretenses they have devised. They want nothing more than to see you succeed, and they know they cannot trust anyone but themselves to put the pieces in motion to that end.
> 
> To reach stated ends, they may lie, cheat, or misrepresent a situation so as to subtly direct you into circumstances you never would have chosen for yourself. They are generally great proponents of the proposition “The ends justify the means.” You may find their behavior reprehensible, but if you call them on it, rest assured, they will have ready justifications for their machinations. The worst part will be, of course, those few times when the outcome they have pushed you towards is actually a good one for you. In that case, no matter how grateful you are, never thank them for their services as this will only serve to entice them to meddle further with even more unbearable smugness. 
> 
> So, what should you do if you find yourself under the crosshairs of a serial meddler? Direct approaches seldom work out well: most meddlers are experts at manipulation, and they will only talk circles around you. Unfortunately, unless you are a good enough manipulator to beat them at their own game, there is not much you can do except to become more savvy to their wiles. If possible, keep your interactions with them to a minimum. If this is not possible, be suspicious of favors they ask you or assignments they give you. Under no circumstances should you make wagers. Wagers are a favored tool of your average meddler as most people have too much pride to leave a bet unanswered. 
> 
> In the end, it is up to all of us to remain vigilant against the meddlers in our lives. The sooner you can identify the manipulators around you, the easier this task will become. In the meantime, do not make wagers, and be cautious about the assignments you accept. At the very least, question the motives of those making the requests more. If this meddler turns out to be someone who has authority over you, you are well and truly out of luck. You have my sympathies. The most important thing is that you do not act like a docile sheep if you can help it. Be aware, and stay wary.

Dave looked up from the print out and over at Karkat. When he’d come here to what he’d realized he’d unconsciously started thinking of as ‘their spot’ at the bench in front of the Yo to meet Karkat, he’d been surprised when Karkat had asked him to read his new article. The article itself hadn’t been what he’d expected: while the title had definitely been provocative, he hadn’t expected the contents to be such a blatant callout. Sure, no one would get it except Rose, but she _was_ his boss, right? That was what he’d said, anyway. “You’re really gonna send this to your editor?”

Karkat nodded. “I have to send them _something_ , and I can’t send them the article I was paid to write.” 

“I know I wasn’t stoked about the other article,” Dave said, unable to hide just how not stoked about it he still was, “but I don’t want you to get _fired_.” If the choice was between Karkat getting fired and—

“I won’t get fired, Dave.” He hesitated. “At least I’m pretty sure I won’t. If for no other reason than Lalonde _is_ marrying my best friend, and she took it upon herself to set me up with her fucking brother.” A small smile. “Maybe nepotism will work in my favor, for once.” Then he bit his lip. “I… I want you to read the other article; the one I dated you to write. I know you read some of it, but you didn’t read all of it, because it wasn’t finished when I showed it to you.”

Dave wanted to refuse outright, and he almost did. He’d forgiven Karkat for the article (and what Karkat had done to write it), he had, but the pain he’d felt then was still fresh. “Why do you want me to read it? No offense, but it wasn’t exactly one of my top ten favorite life experiences. Zero out of ten stars, would not recommend.”

Karkat seemed to be gearing up to argue when he sagged a little in his seat, apparently losing steam for being confrontational all of the sudden. “I get it,” he said after a moment, his tone matching his words. “It’s pretty fucking insensitive of me to be asking you to do this. I know that. But I want you to read the whole article because… because I want you to understand what I was really doing all that time.” He waved his hand as though he’d expected to be interrupted. “I know, I know, we’ve already forgiven each other for the clusterfuck that was the start of our relationship. This isn’t about that. I think you’ve made some assumptions about me and reading the article will clear those up for you. Also, have I mentioned how fucking sorry I am for agreeing to do this to you in the first place? Because I’m sorry.”

“I think we’re both just about apologied out; our bys are so gone that they’re in fucking Australia by now, grilling shrimp and dodging kangaroos,” Dave said with as much nonchalant irreverance as he could manage. It wasn’t much. Heartbreak wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but he’d never liked poking at wounds before they’d healed over some—that went double for emotional biz. “Look, if you really want me to read it, I’ll read it. Just don’t expect, I don’t know, fucking color commentary or whatever.”

“That’s fine.” Karkat looked grateful as he pulled his bag onto his lap and started digging around inside it. A familiar notepad was secured, and he opened it to the page Dave had already seen. “Here.” 

Dave took the notepad and steeled himself. The first two paragraphs were the hardest, because re-reading them brought him back to the first time he’d read them. The rest… What he was finding there still kind of broke his heart, but for Karkat’s sake, not his own. Karkat had honestly thought that acting like himself was going to be their relationship’s Kryptonite? So much of the way Karkat had behaved then (and later on) made much more sense now. Which, he supposed, was why Karkat had wanted him to read the article in the first place.

He also had never been so happy to be wrong before. Maybe Karkat _had had_ bad relationships in the past, but they probably hadn’t been as bad as what he’d been imagining. Karkat had been hiding his true self and putting on a show, but that hadn’t been because he hadn’t felt safe. The same thing for the boundaries Karkat had been testing—he’d been trying to make Dave mad, but not so he’d know how far he could go before the situation got dangerous for him. 

The ending paragraphs were hard to read. And not just because of the tear stains warping some of the writing. Glancing up from the words, he saw Karkat staring ahead, his face tense with nervousness. And not the good kind of nervousness, like the kind you felt before meeting your best friends face to face for the first time, but the bad kind. The kind that expected a shoe to drop.

Well, he’d have to do something about _that_ , wouldn’t he? “You _really_ don’t like my rapping, huh?”

Karkat blinked, then flushed. “It’s growing on me,” he admitted as though the words had to be pried from him, “like the world’s most insidious fungus.” He did not turn his head.

“And you thought _Terezi_ would make me break up with you?” 

A sigh. “I underestimated how likable you are—she tears most people apart and makes them cry. She made a fucking mugger cry once.”

Just when Dave didn’t think he could get _more_ impressed with Terezi! “That sounds hardcore as _shit_. You can’t just say something like that and not explain it.”

“I can, and I will,” Karkat said, crossing his arms. “If you want the story, ask her yourself. She loves to tell that one.” He shuddered. “She likes to make the sound effects.”

“Damn, I’ll have to hit her up later and get the spicy deets.” 

Karkat smiled briefly, glancing at Dave. Then he looked away again, his fingers digging into the sleeves of his sweater. “Now you have the rest of the story,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t… abused or whatever you thought.”

At least he wasn’t apologising again. Dave didn’t think he had it in him to accept another apology. He hated how Karkat had shrunk into himself as he waited for Dave’s judgement. Especially when there wasn’t going to _be_ any judgement on this: it wasn’t as though Karkat had lied to him about this part; he wasn’t responsible for what Dave had thought. This just wasn’t going to fly. He closed the notepad and held it out to Karkat. “Between the article for Rose and this one, I’m starting to think you don’t do subtle at all, Kat.”

It was not the response Karkat had been expecting. He recovered quickly and scowled. “Do I strike you as a man who has ever been subtle in his entire fucking existance?” Uncrossing his arms, he snatched the notepad out of Dave’s hands before shoving it back into his bag. “And stop it with the nicknames—you’re terrible at them.”

This had been a good start. Now, just a little more. “Touchy, dude. Touchy.”

“What?” Karkat turned in his seat to face Dave, clearly mystified.

“You know, touchy: t o u c h e? I would have thought a high class writer guy like you would know that. It means ‘good one.’ Like, ‘Oh, wow, you totally burned me right there with the diss to my mad nicknaming skills: touchy.”

Silence. Then, disbelieving: “You _have_ to know you’re saying that wrong. You have to.”

Dave managed to keep his face smile free, but it was a struggle. “What are you talking about? Touchy? How else would you say it? It’s ‘touch’ with an ‘e’ at the end.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Karkat exclaimed, “it’s not touchy; it’s _touché_ , you mental deficient! It’s goddamn French. I suppose you say ‘buffit’ and ‘ballit’, too.”

“That’s not how you say those?” He shrugged, watching with barely contained glee as Karkat’s face darkened. “It’s like I told you, Kitbit, I don’t do that boujee shit.” And now, for the piece of resistance: “I’m just here puttin' in the time, spittin' my rhymes. You know I do this on a dime. It ain't work for me; it's play the way the insults fly, leavin' you with _l'esprit de l'escalier_ when I say goodbye.” Then he lifted up his glasses and winked, enjoying the view of Karkat realizing he’d been being played in full color. 

Karkat’s mouth hung open. Then he shoved Dave’s shoulder fairly hard. “In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m trying to have a serious fucking discussion here, asshole!”

Dave laughed and lowered his glasses. “Okay, okay.” He took a moment to resettle himself, content that Karkat was at least no longer looking so miserable. “I’m fucking thrilled you weren’t scared of me when we were dating before.” Taking in Karkat’s look of surprise, he frowned. “Did you honestly think I’d want to date you less because of this?”

“Maybe?” Karkat bit his lip. “I thought maybe you were pitying me a bit.”

“Nah, dude, I don’t do pity fucks.” Dave noted Karkat’s wince, and threw an arm around his shoulders. “If I wasn’t into you, I wouldn’t be in you—I am super classy that way.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “You are ‘super’ disgusting, Dave. Let me know when you’re finished channeling your inner sexually frustrated 15 year old and we can talk like adults again.” Despite the words, he was smiling and leaning into him.

“Ah, shit, guess the Honeymoon’s over now. Or is that just for weddings?” Dave reached into the pocket of his hoodie with his free hand. “Speaking of,” he said, pulling out a thumb drive, “I’ve got the goods. You gonna print these at home, or are we going to Staples?”

A nasty grin. “Fuck that. I’ve got a much better idea.”

* * *

##  Day 13:

“Thank you for coming into the office, Mr. Vantas,” Lalonde said, remaining seated behind her desk. “I know it was short notice.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I was already planning to be here anyway.” Karkat wondered if he was going to be fired. He’d assured Dave he wouldn’t be, but he had no way of knowing that for sure. He didn’t regret sending the new article because he felt Lalonde had deserved every fucking word of it, but he probably should have written an article the magazine would actually print, too. Since he couldn’t give them the one he’d originally been paid to write. “Why did you want to see me?”

Lalonde smiled slowly. “Straight to business. Good. I’d like to keep this short. I have a wedding tomorrow to plan for, as you know.” She tilted her head. “You’re going with my brother, right?”

_This_ was what she wanted to talk about? Or was this just an opening salvo that’d leave him vulnerable to whatever her actual topic would be? He shook his head. Focus, Vantas. “Yes. We’re going together. I was going to go anyway,” he added, still annoyed with Rose’s unnecessary manipulation of him and Dave. “Kanaya’s one of my best friends—I wasn’t going to miss her wedding.”

Either she didn’t notice what he was getting at or she was ignoring it. “Of course.” She stood and walked over to the built in coat rack and selected a garment bag that was hanging there. “Here,” she said, handing it to Karkat.

“What’s this?” It was clearly a tux, but it was a brilliant crimson. Not a color he’d choose for himself: too attention grabbing for his tastes. This was something more along the lines of what Dave would wear—and he’d look outrageously sharp and handsome in it, too, the asshole.

“Do you know what Dave said before he went over to talk to you for the first time? He said, and I quote, ‘I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We will be the hottest, gayest penguins you’ve ever seen.” Rose pointed at the bag. “There’s the matching tux. Kanaya didn’t know you both would end up going together when she fitted you for your tux, so she whipped this one up for you so you and Dave can match.”

Oh. That did sound like something Dave would say, but Karkat also had the sneaking suspicion Rose was lying: Kanaya was always trying to get Karkat into brighter colors, and considering Rose’s prior behavior, he wouldn’t put it passed her to use Dave to get Karkat to do something Kanaya wanted to make her happy. Either way, he supposed Kanaya deserved to be happy on her wedding day. “Fine. Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Lalonde returned to her desk. “I received your article. It was a very interesting read.”

Ah. “Are you going to fire me?”

For the first time in Karkat’s experience, Lalonde actually looked startled. Then she laughed. “No. Whyever would you think that?”

She was going to make him spell it out so she could watch him squirm. He didn’t sigh, but it was a close thing. “Because I didn’t write the article you’re paying me to write? Because I wrote an article you won’t be able to use?”

“An article I won’t be able to use?” Lalonde smiled. “Whatever do you mean? It’s going to be in the next issue, featured.”

“What?” Karkat looked for some sign she was joking and didn’t find one. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” she said, still smiling. “I have final discretion about what gets published in my magazine. Your article will be a perfect addition.” She sat back a little in her seat. “And don’t worry about editing—I wouldn’t change a word. It’s already quite flattering. In fact, I think I’ll have it framed.”

Of course. Only Rose fucking Lalonde would take an insult as a compliment. He shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze. “Great. Can I go now?”

She waved him off. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

* * *

##  Day 14: 

“And here’s little Rose in the bathtub,” Dave was saying as he handed Kanaya another printout. Despite his fancy red suit, he looked like a commoner consulting with a queen standing next to Kanaya, who was all decked out in the opulent white wedding gown she’d made for herself. Rose, who was standing at Kanaya’s side in her sharp purple tux, looked like the queen’s body guard. A body guard about two seconds away from murdering said commoner.

Dave pointed at something Karkat couldn’t see from where he was standing. He’d opted to watch the show from a safe distance. “Here’s her original main man, Mr. Puss Puss the Octopus. She and him got up to all kinds of underwater adventures from what Mom told me: finding Atlantis _and_ the hidden caves of the Deep Ones.”

“Oh, Rose,” Kanaya said, beaming, “you were an adorable child.” She turned to Dave. “Her mother has the originals, right? I would love to see these in color.”

Rose was the color of her namesake now, but she was starting to smile, too. “I’m certain mother wouldn’t mind showing them to you.”

Though the sight offered far less schadenfreude than Dave had led him to believe it would, Karkat was satisfied. He took a sip of champagne and watched his boyfriend continue barraging his sister’s wife with baby pictures Karkat had printed off at the company printer. 

* * *

##  Day 397:

“I would like to open my remarks on this occasion,” Rose began, standing by Dave’s side with a piece of paper in one hand and a glass in the other, “by reading a selection from an article my brother’s now husband once wrote regarding friends who meddle.” She glanced at Karkat, smiling one of her patented smug smiles—the one which said, ‘Revenge has been a long time coming, but now it is here; so enjoy.’—then returned her gaze to the small crowd of guests seated at their own tables at the reception. “‘They want nothing more than to see you succeed, and they know they cannot trust anyone but themselves to put the pieces in motion to that end.’”

Dave turned to look at Karkat, who was already slumping in his seat, rumpling his tux. Kanaya would no doubt read him the riot act later. He reached for his hand under the table and gave it a little squeeze. They really should have expected something like this: there was little Rose enjoyed more than being able to use someone’s own words against them, and Rose always _always_ made sure she had the last word.

“This much has generally been true in my experience,” Rose said without a hint of shame, “especially when it comes to the happy couple.” 

A smattering of chuckles from the crowd. Karkat squeezed his hand but continued to glower into the middle distance.

“I will not expect a thank you from either of them, of course, as,” she peered at the paper for only a moment, “thanking meddlesome friends for their services will only serve to entice them to meddle further with even more unbearable smugness.” Rose shook her head, a disappointed but tolerant monarch. Then another brief look at the paper. “He went on to write ‘You may find their behavior reprehensible, but if you call them on it, rest assured, they will have ready justifications for their machinations.’ 

“I feel fully justified in my particular machinations in this case, as I doubt my dear brother and my wife’s dear friend would have had the wherewithal to have come together if not for my influence.” She smiled, all long suffering innocence. “I would not like to cast aspersions on either of them on their wedding day, but I am certain everyone here knows exactly what I mean.”

The laughter was answer enough. Dave chanced a look at Karkat, who was growing an alarming shade of red. Oh, as soon as Rose was done, Karkat was going to pop. Dave had gotten good at telling during the time they’d been together. He gave his hand another squeeze: cursing out his new sister in law at the reception was probably not a great idea. 

“To round out my remarks, I would like to finish with a quote from the famous author, Mary Shelley: ‘To get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.’ Nothing makes me happier than to see the both of you together to share your joy and to share it with the rest of us.”

Smooth, Rose. Now she’d made it so Karkat _couldn’t_ tell her to fuck off without looking like the world’s biggest asshole. Not that he’d really mean it if he had, of course. For all that Karkat said Dave was forgiving, he’d already forgiven Rose ages ago. Dave grinned despite himself, and leaned over to nudge Karkat. 

Karkat rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

She raised her glass higher. “A toast to my dear brother, Dave, and my good friend, Karkat! May married life treat you as well as it has treated me.”

“Here, here!” was the booming response from the crowd.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Thank you all for taking this journey with me. It's been fun to venture out of my comfort zone and see that it's really not as uncomfortable as I'd thought. I appreciate the words of support and your interest.

**Author's Note:**

> I now fully appreciate the struggle that is formatting a pesterlog, and mine weren't even fancy! My hat is off to those who do pages of this stuff.


End file.
